Last night’s sleep was fretful. It felt like I was sick with some kind of invisible toxin that ate at my spirit. As a west coast friend was also up, she asked if I could pray. I had to think about it for a moment. It took me to a time when I prayed that my father not have cancer for a second time, and yet he did. I am familiar with the prayerful waters that can both soothe and disturb, and so, I questioned if I could pray in a way that would not disturb me further in the dark spaces of night. I could not.
Today, I am home with a quiet morning. I have found myself wandering, trying to plug into some healthy joy, or some necessary chore. I give thanks so naturally for the breeze, the birdsongs, the sound of my mother’s voice on the other end of the phone… and yet I still feel so ill, so troubled.
There is a toxic undercurrent that is gnawing in these times. Souls like mine can roam around in beauty and peace and still feel the tiny teeth. I try to practice what I preach and not only pray when I can, but advocate, speak up, do my own soul work, and extend kindness. But on days like today, when I struggle to find the words to pray, when the tilt of political madness stumbles me up… I light candles and sit with Mary. She doesn’t seem to need my words or worry when I get lost. She just sits with me in gentle understanding.
I shall stay close to her today as I carry this soulful burden. She’ll help me hold the cool compresses to the sorrows of our nation. She’ll remind me that love is steadfast, and that while my father faced cancer for a third time, he still calls me by name with tenderness and joy.
Today, I am home with a quiet morning. I have found myself wandering, trying to plug into some healthy joy, or some necessary chore. I give thanks so naturally for the breeze, the birdsongs, the sound of my mother’s voice on the other end of the phone… and yet I still feel so ill, so troubled.
There is a toxic undercurrent that is gnawing in these times. Souls like mine can roam around in beauty and peace and still feel the tiny teeth. I try to practice what I preach and not only pray when I can, but advocate, speak up, do my own soul work, and extend kindness. But on days like today, when I struggle to find the words to pray, when the tilt of political madness stumbles me up… I light candles and sit with Mary. She doesn’t seem to need my words or worry when I get lost. She just sits with me in gentle understanding.
I shall stay close to her today as I carry this soulful burden. She’ll help me hold the cool compresses to the sorrows of our nation. She’ll remind me that love is steadfast, and that while my father faced cancer for a third time, he still calls me by name with tenderness and joy.
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