In the morning, I begin to sing and I sing in a language I do not know. This morning my husband and I sit in prayer after my small song. We come with anxious spirits, churning with this and that. As I am still and silent I invite the precious spirit of God to speak peace to me. And she does. I feel more peaceful by sharing my anxiety with her.
But how do I know what she has said? How do I flesh it out into words to keep and carry with me? I begin with just a small statement that feels a little overstated: “We are not to be anxious.” It is by faith that I have risked saying even that. But in stating the very edge of what I had experienced in prayer, I find that I have picked up a golden thread of hope, just a thread lying in front of me. As I now hold it in my hand, I know my heart will reveal more and more, as if I am gently moving my hand across the thread, exploring what it is and amazed that I can hold this gift of faith and talk about it.
My husband joins me in this conversation. We talk about waiting. I rename it living, because in every day of our lives we are waiting for something. If we wait without attachment, we are free to continue living fully in what is.
We transition to the breakfast table and at the end of our fruit and yogurt we invite Wisdom to hold our anxieties and to continue speaking to us through out the day. This gentle conversation begun in the elusive realm of sung and silent prayer is a meal for us as we find that we are feeding on Christ by faith with thanksgiving.
But how do I know what she has said? How do I flesh it out into words to keep and carry with me? I begin with just a small statement that feels a little overstated: “We are not to be anxious.” It is by faith that I have risked saying even that. But in stating the very edge of what I had experienced in prayer, I find that I have picked up a golden thread of hope, just a thread lying in front of me. As I now hold it in my hand, I know my heart will reveal more and more, as if I am gently moving my hand across the thread, exploring what it is and amazed that I can hold this gift of faith and talk about it.
My husband joins me in this conversation. We talk about waiting. I rename it living, because in every day of our lives we are waiting for something. If we wait without attachment, we are free to continue living fully in what is.
We transition to the breakfast table and at the end of our fruit and yogurt we invite Wisdom to hold our anxieties and to continue speaking to us through out the day. This gentle conversation begun in the elusive realm of sung and silent prayer is a meal for us as we find that we are feeding on Christ by faith with thanksgiving.
RSS Feed