(for my Pastor) We come like cattle to water, like bees to nectar, a babe to the breast. So needy we are. Asking of. Inviting to. Seeking answers. Imploring relief. Our eyes must seem endless oceans as you wade against the current of us. Baptisms, weddings, funerals; the tides of life. There you are, holding us together. A marriage gone bad, a baby never born, a sickness taking over. There you are, holding us together. Accusations, disparity, controversy; fissures in our very foundation. There you are, holding us together. Sunday sermons must seem a relief sometimes. The easy part for a man who is no fixture on these walls; for a man who faces his own fears, frailty, mortality; for a man riding the ebb and flow of his own life. I wonder how you hold it all together, how you hold the weight of us, and this world. And I realize He who holds us all holds. Us. All. He holds you. He holds you and me and him and her. Here He is, right here, holding us all together.