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"I'm losing my balance!"

Today seems indicative of my life: get one kid to school, one kid home sick. Work. Catching up after being out of office for a week. Fielding phone calls from sick kid. Texts from friend in need. Checking emails for news on sick family member. Writing, blogging, researching. Oh, eat lunch! Tweet, FB, read, check, double-check. Update the calendar, call the vet, download an app.

And on and on.

I feel like I'm getting pulled in a million different directions. Teens, elderly parent, career, health, home, marriage, friends: everything needs attention right NOW and everyone needs something. How can I find any balance when I keep getting pulled off the balance beam??

I was so tired after a four-day conference on Sunday that I was totally anti-social at the airport and on the planes: put on the headphones and gave the world a complete "leave me alone" vibe.

It's no secret to any of you that we live in a hurry-up world, and all the things that are supposed to make our lives easier just make us do more faster. Yet our souls crave quiet, even if it means putting on our headphones with no music playing just so people will leave us alone (yes, I've done that). And for anyone in - ahem - middle age, you're stuck in the got-kids-got-parents-to-worry-about zone, as well.

The well can get really dry.

"I thirst." That's what Christ said on the Cross. Dry, tortured, poured out, broken. "I thirst." Not just for water but for compassion, help, an end to suffering, a way out of the pain. "I thirst." Crying out to God for a moment of relief from the desert of torment. "I thirst."

How many around us are thirsting? Are we willing to put aside our own thirst to quench theirs? How do we keep ourselves from running dry so that we can go on helping those around us? We look to Christ, on the Cross: "I thirst", and know He is the only answer to all those questions. The answer to unbalance in our world is right there on the beams of the Cross.

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Crossing Guard

I saw you
today
as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
and
watching cars and lights.

Your little man had on
black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
as he walked.

He wasn't watching nothing but
your big man boots
and
the white stripes of the crosswalk.

Just before
he got to the sidewalk again,
his step bounced a bit
- he hopped over
a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

Then you walked on,
in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.