I was sitting there quietly, waiting to start our midweek Eucharist at St. Sabinus'. Doing my best to be still, both outwardly and inwardly, but still a bit fidgety. And then: that little voice of dissatisfaction, which says things like "You're not doing this right", "You're too easily distracted", and sometimes, "You're really not much good at praying, are you?"
And then ... from absolutely nowhere, with no warning, no fanfare, just a murmur really: I'm here anyway.
This was an intervention, in the gentlest, most understated way possible. A reminder that when I'm flailing about, wondering what exactly I have to do to make the big connection with God ... I'm here anyway.
In other words: never mind what you're doing or not doing, what you're feeling or not feeling ... I'm here anyway.
A bit like when you wave someone away, saying - I'll be fine, you can go now - and they say - I'll stay anyway.
I'm here, I'm just here, you don't need to call me, you just need to know that I'm here. Anyway.
And I thought: everything about my ability, or inability, to proclaim and represent and embody the love of God depends entirely on my knowing this about him: I'm here anyway.