Friday, December 7, 2007

Evening Prayer

Heavenly Father,

The day has been long, and the morning seems so far away. I can remember every detail, but the time and events seem far removed from where I am now.

I am tired. Not weary. Just tired. And I long to go to a still quiet place and let all thoughts, plans, stress, and concerns drain away. Enable me to close my eyes and keep the screen of my eyelids blank for a while.

Thank you for the day and all that it has held. Thank you for creativity and laughter and for friends and spontaneity.
Forgive me for the things I said and did that I should not have, and please forgive me for the things I should have said and done, but did not.

I know you are near. I feel you hovering just above the edge of my consciousness--whispering to me. I am asking that you help me get still enough to hear my own breathing. Then, please move me to a place where I can hear your breathing, no matter how faint. Synchronize my inhalations and exhalations with yours.

Mary wrapped your Son in swaddling clothes. She carefully pulled his tiny arms and legs near his little body to keep him warm and from erratic flailings. As Mary did this for Jesus will you please wrap me? Pull all of me in with the swaddling of your Spirit. Wrap and pull me tight to secure and calm my own infant flailings. Pull me towards your center.

And allow me to fall into a deep, contented sleep because you are the last thing on my mind.

Amen and amen.

3 comments:

elmogus said...

Had I words, I could not have put the desperate yearnings of my heart more eloquently, my dear friend. And I feel less alone to know that you feel that way sometimes too.

elmogus said...

Had I words, I could not have put the desperate yearnings of my heart more eloquently, my dear friend. And I feel less alone to know that you feel that way sometimes too.

elmogus said...

Had I words, I could not have put the desperate yearnings of my heart more eloquently, my dear friend. And I feel less alone to know that you feel that way sometimes too.

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