I knelt before my Lord one night. My aching heart told me I should have been here hours before, but here I was, late as ever, with the same story.

“I’m glad to see you here, Anna.” His voice was soft, as was his gaze, I’m sure, but I couldn’t look up.

“I’m sorry, Lord. Again.”

He laughed lightly. “Again, child?”

I shrugged. I knew ‘again’ didn’t matter, but it still bothered me. I wondered why it was that every morning I could wake up devoted to my beliefs, only to find myself six feet under before lunch. I had to wonder: if I have half the mind I like to claim, why can’t I just shut up? Why, oh why, can’t Iat least keep my venom to myself?

I didn’t speak any of these thoughts, of course, and that didn’t matter, either. Not in this relationship. He heard my thoughts as if I had spoken, and sharply told me to stop. And I did, though I blushed and inclined my head further. He reached down and raised my chin. I found my guilt relieved when I finally met his gazed. “Walk with me,” he said. I rose and followed.

For a long time, we just walked. I thought to myself that this was nice. Far better than my normal sprint and crawl drills. Eventually, though, he spoke. “You’ve been distracted.”

I nodded and smiled to myself. “The Cubs finally put a streak together. Zambrano has been absolutely dominant. He’ll stay healthy, right?”

I should have shut up. I should have said “I’ll forget about baseball,” but no. There go all my thoughts pouring out my mouth. I hated myself for the hurt I saw in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lord.” I could hardly hear my own voice. “I’ll stop watching the TV, if you like.” He shook his head and looked all the sadder. My heart ached. What was I supposed to say, now?

Instead, he spoke to me. “Hush. I told you not to torment yourself. Anna, how long have you known me?”

“Four years.”

“And you still don’t understand… child, I don’t want you to shut yourself off from the world. It needs you.” He stopped walking and faced me. “All I want is for you to love me more than the dust I made.”

My blood ran cold. Absolutely cold. Was this how Peter felt, when Jesus confronted him about his denial? And how much better was Peter than me? Three is nothing to my thousands. “You know I love you, Lord.” My voice was naught but a high whisper.

“I know.”

“I do. Truly. You know I’m not fiery or emotional, but Lord, please don’t doubt…”

“I know, Anna.”

“I’d die for you! You know it’s true!”

“I don’t need you to die. You are not called to die.” I was cut deep, and he put an arm around my shoulders. “My task for you is harder. Child, I need you to live.”