Oh Holy One,
I turn my heart to you.
I tune my ears,
Seeking the frequency of your heart.
I close my eyes,
So I might see beyond distractions.
This moment of turning
Turns the world.
Until, at last, I glimpse a different story.
It is a story more true than
The one that shouts to me from the TV,
Working to stir my fears.
Your whispered presence
Tells a deeper story.
Not about distance,
Not about disease,
Not about death.
Your story holds a secret melody
That sings of hope,
Of healing, and of resurrection.
You placed yourself within the struggle
To bear, with us, its pain and loss
And walk us through to promise.
Slowly I begin to understand.
Stories are life incarnate:
Life held at a distance,
So that I might better see.
The stories I listen to,
The stories I tell,
Shape me.
So, help me hear your story
The one you speak within my heart
The one that holds the world with love
The one that makes me one with you.
Oh Holy One,
Help me to pray.
Help me to hear your voice amid the storm.
Help me to walk with confidence upon the waves,
Looking only on your face.
Teach me, again, your story.
Quiet Hope 