Who among decent people, Christian or not, is not outraged at the Paris Olympic debacle? Normally, I can do tirades, outrage, enraged. But today, words, even angry ones, the ones that come too often to my lips, don’t come.

Today is a day for prayer, especially prayers of reparation, and prayers for repentance.

After my first inclination, I put down my stone. Instead of quoting Jesus on casting stones, I’ll include this one from Revelations Chapter 3.

So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.

I submit that at times, probably most of the time, we are lukewarm in our faith, lukewarm in our practice of our faith. In our prayers, our hope, our charity.

And so, I accuse myself today, as well as the performers, the endless Olympic officials and committees and politicians, and every soul who didn’t walk out of there.

Okay, changing gears.

I am so sick of Kamala ads. Go away already.

I am grateful, in no particular order, for rain, grandchildren, summer produce, farmers, cool breezes as I watch the sunset behind the mountains, that I live at the foot of a mountain and a hop from the Tennessee River, good neighbors, strangers who smile, and funny memes.

I wish I practiced the virtues more, especially tempering my tongue and self denial. I wish, oh so much, that I could sing. I wish I’d never broken my ankle. I wish I could hold all my grandchildren one more time as babies for a few minutes. I wish I could protect them from evil. I wish faith for them. I wish I had a beach house.

Your turn!