i quit praying because
prayer represented a lack of self-reliance,
a neediness,
an inability to take care of my self and my own.
i quit praying because
i was told how to pray
and when to pray
and where to pray.
i quit praying because
i wanted to do it myself
in my own way
to my own spirit of surprises
with my eyes wide open.
well, guess what: i’ve taken up prayer again.
and even though my prayers may not
look like yours
or sound like yours
or be directed to the same god or direction as yours,
they are still prayers.
my prayers.
and on any given day
they sound like laughter
and feel like slow cloth
and taste like mom’s cubed steak
and smell like gardenias
and look like this:
because sometimes
prayers deserve pretty paper
and to be written in blood
and sealed with a big, fat, juicy kiss.
I absolutely love this!
thanks, beth. and i absolutely love that your book, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, is moving up the numbers in the NY Times Bestseller list (and several other lists, too)! that is fantastic news.
Amen, my beautiful friend. Thank you for this.
Love this. Thanks for the reminder that whatever higher being and inspiration we seek exists in the things we do every day.
Beautiful. And something I can relate to.
You are grace. Pure grace. I know it, ’cause I’ve sat with you in silence. Sweet, thick, pure grace.
Amen.
Ah…my far away sister…I love your words.
and on any given day
they sound like laughter
and feel like slow cloth
and taste like mom’s cubed steak
and smell like gardenias
and look like this:
I love you.
Sigh… I just love you. And that’s a prayer to and from my heart.