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The other day as I was running out the door to my second work shift of the day, I began praying out loud - or rather, yelping.

"Lord - bless my efforts!"

I had just finished dumping a scoop of food into the dog's bowl, and was slamming the door locked behind me with a coffee mug and teaching material spilling out of my arms when I realized what I had blurted out to my Creator.

As I turned the key in my ignition and looked around at the state of my endearing car - full to bursting with damp backpacking equipment, field guides, my rubber boots, and my lunch container, I began laughing out loud.

I knew I was running like a chicken with my head cutoff - I knew when I sealed my calendar fate of working 7-day weeks for 3 weeks straight that I was probably going to hit a point of insanity. But it was my pitiful prayer that got to me.

So as I started my commute, realized my gas tank was almost empty, and that I was wearing chicken socks and sandals to go teach a class at a coll…

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