Our theme for the month of October is “flash nonfiction.” Writers were asked to submit pieces that were 250 words or less.

God, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

This past Sunday, on a late drive home, I saw a shooting star. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me as the shimmering glint of light cut through the blackness ahead of my windshield. But there it was.

When I was younger I used to pray for signs. I’ve always yearned for clarity. And with so many uncertainties in my life right now, I find myself yearning once more. My prayers contain a lot of questions; my late-night drives contain both. 

Then, this past Sunday, in the midst of that wondering came a symbol of good luck. But maybe it was more than just a sign. A little answered prayer, perhaps.

God, I don’t know where I’m meant to be.

Seven days prior, I was sitting in church by myself. Meaningful connection has been a challenge since returning to in-person worship. As the service transitioned into a period of quiet reflection before communion, I pondered my loneliness. I swallowed the bread despite the lump in my throat.

When the last song was over, I sat down to gather my belongings. I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. As my eyes drifted upward, a smiling face looked back at me.

“Hey, I’m not sure I’ve met you before. What’s your name?”

God, don’t let me miss these little answered prayers.

1 Comment

  1. Courtney Zonnefeld

    “My prayers contain a lot of questions; my late-night drives contain both.” Cars can be the perfect place for honesty with both yourself and God—something about the stillness of a late-night drive always pushes me to say things I otherwise might hide. Love you’ve captured that.


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