|
|
|
Linn County Leader - Brookfield, MO
Finding the sacred in everyday life
Patience for the road trip — and for God’s timing
email print
About this blog
Marketta Gregory never meant to be a columnist. \x34I trained to be a newspaper reporter -- one who tried to her best to be objective. I covered religion for a few years and felt like it was the best job a curious woman like me could ever have. ...
X
Simply Faithful
Marketta Gregory never meant to be a columnist. \x34I trained to be a newspaper reporter -- one who tried to her best to be objective. I covered religion for a few years and felt like it was the best job a curious woman like me could ever have. Every day I got to listen as people told me about the things that were most important to them, the things that were sacred. But the newspaper industry was changing and few papers could afford to have an army of speciality reporters. So, I moved to cover the suburbs where, as luck would have it, they have plenty of religion, too. Eventually, children came into the picture. One by birth and another two months later by foster care/adoption. I struggled to chase breaking news and be home at a decent hour, so I made the move to what we journalists call the dark side: I took a job in public relations. (Don't worry. I work for a great non-profit, so it's not dark at all.) When I gave my notice at the Rochester (NY) Democrat and Chronicle, the executive editor asked me to consider writing a column on a freelance basis. She didn't want the newspaper to lose touch with its religious sources, and she still wanted consistent faith coverage. I was terrified. It took me about 10 months to get back to her with a solid plan and some sample columns. And so it began, this journey of opening up my heart to strangers.\x34
Recent Posts
July 13, 2014 5:10 p.m.
July 9, 2014 11:10 a.m.
June 29, 2014 11:10 p.m.
June 13, 2014 11:20 a.m.
June 11, 2014 11:15 a.m.
By simplyfaithful
July 16, 2013 5:15 p.m.



photo2We told the boys on a Saturday night, just as we sat down for dinner.

We’re going to Oklahoma for vacation, I began to explain, but by the time I had finished my sentence, Benjamin was out of his seat and headed for his backpack.

Sit down. Finish dinner, we told him, and then we counted to 14 together so he’d understand how many days we’d need to wait.

There will be time to pack your toys.

It worked for the 5-year-old, but the 2-year-old was already asking for help with his shoes so he could get in the car and go see Grandma Marie.

We tried everything we could think of to explain the concept of waiting two weeks, but Colt was inconsolable. He wanted grandma and her Diet Pepsi. He wanted to wave at the trains that run by her house. He wanted to hug his aunts, see the sharks at the aquarium and blow bubbles in the backyard.

And he wanted all of that now.

photo3He didn’t remember the 22-hour car ride or comprehend the need to wait until my scheduled weeks off. No, the only thing on Colt’s mind was the fun he’d have there.

That’s OK at his age, but it’s not OK that I act the same way with God.

I fuss and whine when I don’t get what I want right away. I complain that the good stuff is taking too long — and I tell that to a God who sees eternity.

I’m ready, I think. But I gloss over the hard work I will need to do to get me where I want to be, the hours of preparation and practice.

I don’t want to wait to put on my shoes.

Maybe that 2-year-old is a lot like his mama, and maybe it’s time for me to grow up.



Recent Posts

    latest blogs

    • Community
    • National