This was my Valley of Vision poem for today, called Need of Grace. I simply adore it. I feel like the Puritans always say exactly what I think, but make it sound fantastic.

O Lord,
Thou knowest my great unfitness for service,
    my present deadness,
    my inability to do anything for thy glory,
    my distressing coldness of heart.
I am weak, ignorant, unprofitable,
    and loathe and abhor myself.
I am at a loss to know what thou wouldest have me do,
    for I feel amazingly deserted by thee,
    and sense thy presence so little;
Thou makest me possess the sins of my youth,
    and the dreadful sin of my nature,
    so that I feel all sin,
    I cannot think or act but every motion is sin.
Return again with showers of converting grace
    to a poor gospel-abusing sinner.
Help my soul to breathe after holiness,
    after a constant devotedness to thee,
    after growth in grace more abundantly every day.
O Lord, I am lost in the pursuit of this blessedness,
And am ready to sink because I fall short of my desire;
Help me to hold out a little longer,
    until the happy hour of deliverance comes,
    for I cannot lift my soul to thee
    if thou of thy goodness bring me not nigh.
Help me to be diffident, watchful, tender,
    lest I offend my blessed friend
    in thought and behaviour;
I confide in thee and lead upon thee,
    and need thee at all times to assist and lead me.
O that all my distresses and apprehensions
    might prove but Christ's school
    to make me fit for greater service
    by teaching me the great lesson of humility.

   The phone rang shrilly in the quiet house. Millie slid her aching limbs out of bed. Although filling in for the librarian had certainly been enjoyable, she wasn’t sure that the money adequately compensated for the long hours on her feet.

   The phone yelled at Millie again as she shuffled her now-slippered feet into the hallway. Why did they make phones ring so loud?

   Millie pulled the phone from its cradle as it began its third piercing shriek.

   “York residence,” Millie’s petite voice, aptly suited to her tiny frame, broke the silence.

   “What, Ginny?” Millie said. “Yes, yes, of course….Well, I do have a job scheduled, but….No, no, this is far more important, don’t be silly. I’ll just tell them I’m going to be late….Yes, you too. I love you sweetheart. Give my love to Kate and Paul.”

   Millie set the phone back as silence once again reigned supreme. Paul, Millie’s son-in-law and a naval captain, had been called to leave unexpectedly. Millie would go tomorrow to watch Kate while Ginny saw her husband off.

   Climbing into bed once more, a sigh escaped Millie’s lips. She looked at the empty bed, remembering the many times she had seen her own husband off.

   “You always looked so handsome in uniform,” Millie said to the darkness. She smiled, putting her hand on the pillow which she still always called Charlie’s. Playing her fingers across the worn fabric, Millie slowly drifted off into sleep once more in the empty, silent house.

************

   Millie slowly drifted awake, not wanting to pull her head out from under the blankets as she listened to the rain. Thunder boomed low and long. Millie peeked out at the clock. 5:48. Time to get up and start the day.

   Turning on FoxNews as she started the tea brewing, Millie’s slippers made shushing noises on the floor as she packed cookies and a pot-roast she had made the previous night into a basket to take to Ginny’s house. Moving methodically through her morning routine, Millie strained to listen as the news anchors talked about the political candidates’ latest scandals and an earthquake somewhere in Asia. Coming once into the kitchen, Millie put her green tea into a Thermos, picked up the basket, her purse and keys, slipped on her Wellington boots and stepped out into the steadily falling rain.

   Oh dear, she thought. What a morning to stand on the pier for a goodbye. She made a mental note to remind Ginny to take a mug of something warm for the drive home. It was always ten times harder when both heart and body were cold. At least the one could be fixed with a mug of steaming cocoa.

*************

   Kate greeted her grandmother ecstatically, sopping herself in rainwater as she grasped Millie’s knees.

   “Daddy’s going on his ship!” the four-year-old told Millie. “You and I have to play inside, ‘cuz it’s raining.”

   She grabbed Millie’s hand and led her through the door into the empty foyer.

   “Mama!” she screamed. “Mor’s here!”

   “Hi mom,” Ginny’s voice echoed down the stairs. “I’ll be right there.”

   Paul strode in, his captain’s hat under his elbow, dufflebag in hand.

   “Hi, Mor,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks for coming.”

   “How long is your tour this time?” Millie asked, smiling at a man she loved almost as much as her daughter.

   “Four hundred days,” Paul replied, a look of sadness crossing his usually jovial face. He looked at his daughter. “Miss me, squirt?”

   “I love you, Daddy!” Kate transferred her death grip from Millie’s knees to her father’s.

   Ginny came down the stairs, raincoat in hand. Her face was pale and serious, but she smiled at her mother.

   “I should be back by noon or so,” she said, picking up the keys and slipping her hand into Paul’s. He removed his hand and instead wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders and squeezed her to him.

   “Bye, Kater,” he said, pulling his daughter up his chest. “Daddy loves you. Write me lots of letters!”

   He put her down and gave Millie a gentle hug. “Take care of my girls.”

   Millie smiled, weakly.

   “I always do,” she whispered.

   Millie picked up Kate and they waved until the Volvo was out of site.

Things you learn as a News Editor:

1) How to go a few days with no sleep.

2) How to, consequently, balance homework, attempting to have a connection with the outside world and staring at five million stories five million times--all without sleep.

3) All the Security Guards names.

4) The weird music they play on some random Grove City radio station at 1 am.

5) How much fun it is to, in the kindest manner possible, mock everyone you write articles about. Truly, the later at night it is, the more mocking occurs.

6) How many different ways computers can malfunction while you simply try to put TEXT ON A PAGE.

7) How many different surfaces there are in the tower on which you can scrape your arms, skin your knees or stub your toes as you dance to the weird crazy music on the radio.

8) All the really, really odd things that happen on campus.

9) All the wonderful events coming up that you would love to go to but can't because you are either a) working on the paper or b) doing homework (homework? what? do I have that?) or c) so tired that you fell asleep sneaking across lower quad and were subsequently shot by the sniper in Rockwell.

10) How to keep secrets until a week later, when the paper actually comes out (I'm still working on this one).

And you know what?

I LOVE THIS JOB!!!!!!!!!