Prayer irrigates the earth and heart
– St. Francis / Love Poems from God – Daniel Ladinski
How does prayer water my soul?
How can it soften the cracks that have yawned so wide?
How can it fill those holes in me that echo with despair?
What part of the whole am I?
What is diminished when I turn away?
What holes do I leave in that leaving?
When will I learn to listen to your voice?
When will I open to your presence?
When will you come?
Where is the quiet space that lets life blossom?
Where are the thin places in my life, in my soul,
Where I can find you, if I’ll seek, knock, ask?
Why does my prayer sound echoes in my soul?
Why can I not connect to your grace and fullness?
Why won’t you answer me, this morning?
Does prayer answer my questions, or, in acknowledging them,
Do I open myself to the rain of your grace?
Can you sneak up behind me and catch me with a hug?
I so need your embrace, and with my prayer, this morning,
I embrace my need as the very opening that makes the space for you;
The crack in my soul where you can enter.
Will you enter?
[photo by Anjan Chatterjee per cc 2.0]
Two weeks into Lent and I’m still wondering what to give up.
The very moment when I think I’ve got it nailed, it moves. Jello to a wall, as they say.
You are, indeed, the great recycler. Not necessarily a moniker I should embrace for You in times of meditation. It seems a bit … well … too close to ‘sanitation engineer.’ But then, I need some cleaning up. My life becomes so easily cluttered and stained. My closet is too full of things I have laid aside in haste, thinking that I’ll sort them out later.
Quiet Hope 