Pay attention to the thoughts that surface, bubble up to overflow in private.
Yesterday morning, I closed the door and prayed on the bathroom floor.
No magic, no set expectation, just a plea that was private.
I humbled myself and asked for ease, for help.
Humbled, but not afraid, not cornered by my delay in praying nor in my honest admission of asking for help, for grace.
And, my prayer was answered. I was without pain, still am.
Around 3:00 a.m, I turned and wondered, why did I stop praying as much as before?
Praying in private, mostly.
Again, humbled by the tender realization, but not all the feeling of being punished or afraid.
More like, “I miss praying. I miss the peace of honesty and of talking to God about others and things that only we know”.
I miss me, humbled and yet, unafraid.
And so, God told me so. Told me in a way, I suppose,
I miss our conversations,
I miss the heart of you.
I delivered a painted cross yesterday, a housewarming gift that according to my friend was “extra”, other gifts and favors already given. I told her I’d like to gift another, for her office.
She gave me permission to choose the color, she’d be fine with white, she offered.
I’m thinking now about the depth in her eyes, pools of thought and kindness.
How I’ll capture that color, I don’t know yet.
I can pray. I am certain in that.
Unafraid and so very humbled.