By the time Holden's throwing his cash into the lagoon, he's pretty much sliding to rock bottom. The fact that he has only $4.30 left on his person is a good indicator that life ain't all rainbows and lemon drops for him. In less than 60 pages, Holden will be in a hospital in California, talking about how much he misses everybody, from his sister Phoebe to "old Stradlater and Ackley, for instance." I haven't been throwing my money in the lagoon, but things are pretty lean around the Saint Marty household at the moment. I got my paycheck on Friday, and by Saturday morning, my wife and I were trying to figure out how we were going to make it to my next payday.
But that's not what I want to write about. I've been in tight situations before. And I've made it through. What I hate is how I always feel robbed of peace of mind when I'm down to my last three singles, five quarters, and nickel. That's what my prayer of the week is for. Peace.
You already know how crazy I am right now. You know I didn't sleep last night, and You know I've been thinking all day about money and how to make more of it.
I know it's all about trust. I can almost hear Your voice in my ears, "Have a little faith, buddy. I've got your back." Well, when my back is against the wall, I tend to panic, and that panic overwhelms any sense of peace I may possess.
So, I'm not asking for money tonight. I'm not asking for a full-time job at the university. I'm not asking for publications. I'm asking for peace of mind. That's all.
I just want peace. Please.
Your loving child,
|This is where it all seems to go, people|