Father, I confess that I am angry. All I can see are the imperfections of other drivers, of the road, and of the rules and their lack of enforcement. My own imperfections mock me, so loudly that I turn up the music in an effort to drown out the condemning voices in my head.

But you are my Father in Heaven. You alone are perfect, so I fix my eyes upon you. My imperfections and the imperfections of those around me are swallowed up in your stillness. The anger recedes, the voices cease, and I enter into the Father’s tranquility, and I continue my drive in contemplative silence.


– Matt Fitzpatrick