The wind is gusting and I am a paper cup, discarded and spinning on the pavement. My thoughts jump from tomorrow to yesterday and into ever deeper wells of imagination.
Does the world intrude, or do I pursue it? You must look on my agitation with sorrow.
Lord, let my feet root. Let my thoughts rest here.
It is a familiar path: there is a thing that must be done. I awaken with fear that I will be inadequate to the task and be judged therefore. I pray for guidance and strength. The time to act arrives. The words come, the deeds unfold. I later marvel and give thanks.
Lord, grant me this posture of gratitude at the outset. Let me give thanks at dawn, secure already that you will have carried me through this fearful day.
Am I enough? Let me be enough.
All my fellows worry the same. Lord, let me bring ease to all, for we all are beset with fear.
Make of me a spring of healing water.
You made me for this day, and this day for me. You trained and shaped me. You arranged the winds to howl, that I might have some challenge to meet.
Lord, let me be equal to this day: I fear it.
What is left undone? What must I yet undo?
Lord, order my actions and my inactions. Let me do what is needful and leave aside the rest.
Teach me more to sit quietly, here on my cushion, and learn to wait. Such a task it is, to act not.
Less, Lord. Let me learn less.
Miracles unfold around me daily. A heart is turned. An attitude is changed. Someone grows. I awaken.
Such a tragedy that, in the midst of this, my self-pity grows.
Lord, let me instead marvel at your work.
My thoughts follow such crooked paths – this way, then that. Back again. Distracted over and over by my own thoughts.
Lord, let fall away what is not needed. Let my pathways straighten and become simple. Let me go where you point me without diversion.
Overflow and abundance, relief and rescue. You freely offer all I need or could want.
And yet I cling to self-sufficiency and eke out a meager portion of joy. What sorrow, with so much available to me.
Break my pride, make me willing to ask.
Let me ask for help honestly. Behind my petitions, too often, lurks my conviction that I may yet overcome – that through my own strength I may succeed. If I am so sure of my own power, why then might I pray?
Lord, you hear and answer my call when I am weakest. When I cry for help in anguish, you present yourself as a friend in my doorway.
Let me invite you in.
You make me equal to this day. Whether I am to walk gently, or lift great objects, or perform feats of charity: you have made me already enough.
This fear – of boredom, of effort, of being judged – is just a shadow. Let me touch the substance of the world. Power flows through me, just enough.
Oh, thank you, Lord.