Tag: concern

I Don’t Know What To Say

For the last hour I have tried to put words to what I am feeling.
And, to what I see happening.
And, to its potential impact on the lives of so many.
Especially those who are the most vulnerable or who have born the weight of our prejudice and hatred for so long. The words and actions of so many of our elected officials (I first wrote leaders and then realized that was the wrong word) runs counter to everything I tried to model and to teach my children as they grew up.

So, my prayer today is this.
That, in the days to come, I may have the courage to live fiercely.
And, to hold onto those core values of respect and integrity.
And, that in my daily living and my interactions with others, I may practice kindness and show compassion and seek understanding and do my small part to make the world a better place for all.

How We Pray

The truth is, O God, using words is usually the last way we pray.
And, even then, our words barely scratch the surface.
Our hopes and dreams;
Our tears;
Our heartbreak;
Our compassion;
Our concern;
Go farther and reach deeper than what our words can ever go.
So just as we do everyday, let us pray with all that and more.
Let us pray with our bravest hopes.
And, with the tears we cannot hold back.
And, with the brokenness of our heart.
And, with our compassion which reaches out a hand to our neighbor.
And, with our concern for so many in so many places;
Including this Your world entrusted now to our care and keeping.
Amen.

All I Can Do Today Is Pray

All I can do today is pray.
Friends are going through a difficult time.
A REALLY difficult time.
But my prayers today, as they so often are, are more outward than upward.
Reaching out across the miles.
Seeking them out wherever they are.
And, in some unseen way linking that which is within me to give…
My strength;
My support;
My concern;
My heartbreak;
My hope;
With their lives and the moment which they have right now.
Others, I know, are doing the very same thing.

All I can do today is pray.

A Prayer for Today

Open our eyes, O God.
And our minds;
And our hearts;
And our hands;
And our spirits;
So that in these everyday moments that add up to a lifetime we can see and recognize and name Your presence with us and among us.
Open us up, even just a crack, so we can see and name…
Your love and compassion and care and forgiveness;
Interwoven in the stories of our own lives;
Turning us;
Leading us;
Guiding us;
In the direction You would have us go.
Shaping us into the people You would have us be.
People doing their best to love the world and everyone in it the way You love the world and everyone in it.
And so, our prayers stretch out from our lives
Large enough and bold enough
To encircle and to embrace those whom we have named and more.
And, as always, O God
We pray that our lives follow where our prayers first lead.
Amen.

Sometimes All I Can Do Is Pray

Earthquakes are rattling Nicaragua. I have friends there. Many of them. I have helped to build homes there. I hope those homes are still standing. The people I know and more that I don’t are being told to sleep outside tonight so if another quake hits they won’t be asleep in their beds and risk having their house collapse on them and their families. I will be sleeping safe and sound in my bed tonight. Sometimes all I can do is pray.

The mother of someone I know and care about is battling cancer…again.
Sometimes all I can do is pray.

A picture of a little girl curled up in a ball makes me want to turn away. What can I do for refugees, wherever they are, who have fled bombs and bullets or who have lost parents or children in endless often senseless fighting. Today I am particularly mindful of those who have fled the civil war in Syria. Sometimes all I can do is pray.

I have known them for nearly twenty five years. They were about my age now when we first met. Now they are older and they and their children struggle against and struggle with the reality and the concerns and the needed lifestyle changes that come with growing old. Sometimes all I can do is pray.

And, there is more.
My list goes on.
Sometimes all I can do is pray.
I understand that prayer is not magic.
It is not hocus pocus that suddenly makes bad things good or wrong things right, and it does not miraculously do or undo what I should have done or should not have done.
At its core, my prayer is my remembering.
My remembering there is a concern and a connectedness that links us all together.
My remembering that love and strength and encouragement and care and concern and joy while expressed here does, indeed, stretch to there.
My remembering my desire and my responsibility to wrap some part of who I am and some part of what I know and name as God around the you I hold in my heart and mind in this moment. Sometimes all I can do is pray.

Does it matter?
Yes.
Because the moment I pray is the moment I remember that the world is bigger and my life is bigger than the particular concerns I have in this moment and the shrink wrapped life I, too easily, live.
Does it make a difference?
Yes.
To you?
I hope so.
But I know it makes a difference because, at the very least, it makes me different.

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Several things I believe: