The Day's Prayer

"I know that a chapter on prayer belongs in this book, but I dread writing it," so begins Barbara Brown Taylor in An Altar In The World, Chapter 11, The Practice of Being Present to God.

We have been dining sumptuously on this book for the last three weeks in our program. The book is chock-full of incarnational anecdotes and insights that kept me wanting to read more. Each chapter voiced "my thoughts exactly!" or "I can't believe she just wrote that!"

For today's "book club" review with our supervisor, we walked to the nearby park. Our assignment? Write a prayer about what the day was expressing to us. So here goes.

I am delicate bubbles on the stream

filled with the full breath of life.

If you have ears to hear

let the tone resonate in your heart.

I am the slime on the rocks

beneath your feet.

If you have bare feet to balance

let my ice cold water refresh your soreness.

I am the stickery blades of dry grass

next to the new growth of clover.

If you have wiggly toes that separate

let my fur wrap your digits with love.

Listen. The birds harmonize.

Breathe. The warm air softens every edge.

Move. I am alive.

In you.