From the Road

Occasional notes. The book is finished; the walking is not.

I sealed First I Pray because it said what I had to say, and because I know myself: left alone with it, I would edit it forever and call that faithfulness. So the book is done. I am not.

The practice it describes keeps happening to me — most days, in ways I don't see coming. The first reach still goes wrong more often than I'd like to admit, and by grace it keeps getting corrected. Every so often one of those moments asks to be written down. This is where I put it.

There is no schedule here. There may be three notes in a week and none for a season. If it has been quiet, it means I've been walking, not writing — the practice doesn't pause when the page does. There is nothing to subscribe to and nothing to keep up with. Come back whenever you think of it, or don't; the book is the place to start, and it isn't going anywhere.

These are just notes from the same road — dust still on my shoes.