During my last semester of seminary, when I was walking around in a perpetual state of abject fear of transitioning into congregational ministry, I projected a highly detailed schedule of what my days would look like once I had a church. I doubt I've lived a single day in accordance with that strict plan of wonderfully spent time -- knit-praying in the sanctuary, reading for hours every morning in my study, visiting every single afternoon, and so on.
Today I started the day well, though. I packed up the car with the clothes I'd need for church, and headed to the beach ready to walk. When I walk at the beach, I usually stick to the paved path, but today I was drawn to the sand, where the sun was already directly shining. I walked for forty minutes or so, the sort of laborious walking required by quaggy ground. Slow movement, fast heartbeat. It gave me the presence of mind to stop and sit and pray once I arrived at the office.
And now I have reading to do.