Prayer 5

Good morning, God,
it is really early and I wonder,
“How good is this?” when I sit
here in the semi-darkness,
listening to my wife, kids,
in-laws all snoring away,
while I discover again the reason
I love their presence so,
is because you give great gifts,
you don’t give like we give,
withholding ourselves,
but you are the gift of life
to us, and to those we love.
You make a way for us,
to love, and be loved,
because you know us
both as creator and becoming
one with the created.
How strange is that?
You are so mysterious.
I cannot fathom how you work,
how you think, how you do
the miraculous stuff you do.
The family comes drifting in
from the corners of the house
trying not to wake Justin,
sacked out on the couch.
Soon egg strata is in the oven,
bacon is frying, potato pancakes
brown in the electric skillet,
orange juice is poured.
We sit down around the table
to the ‘morning after’ feast
saying thanks again
for your goodness, your love.
I wonder if Joseph ever sat
in the early morning glow
listening to Jesus snore,
thanking you for him,
and Mary, and all the rest
of the relatives gathered
in the house you provided.
Of course, he did.
How can we not?
Thank you...

Prayer 4

I want what you have God,
power, glory, strength, impact.
Yes, I want to be you,
but not in a good way.
Somewhere deep inside me
I know that I can’t have it all,
be all that I want to be,
‘cause it is so not good for me
(did you plant that thought in me?)
In the end, it is all about goodness,
your goodness to me, I mean.
You know me so much better
than I can ever know myself.
I hate admitting that.
You kill my independent streak,
make me bow my knees.
It makes me feel so small,
when you decide to remind me,
that I am here today,
and like a field of hay,
cut down and gone tomorrow.
That is the way it is here,
since you are the good Creator and
I, the result of your creativity.
Then, just when I’ve resigned myself
to the fact that I don’t need
power or glory or strength,
that I can be obscure and trivial,
you reach down and lift my face
to give me little glimpses
of how I change your world
in ways I can’t imagine.
It is funny that I can do all things,
but only through your Son
who strengthens me.

Prayer 3

I was thinking about the day
we were hanging out in the hot tub.
You were smiling
in that generous way
you smile at me
as we sat soaking in the bubbles.
Your eyes were laughing
and crinkled at the edges.
I poured out my anxieties,
all my worries and concerns
about my family and friends.
You were listening
with a wrinkled forehead,
soft eyes looking sad.
Then suddenly it was like you
couldn’t help yourself.
You busted out laughing
in that big, rich voice
that makes me feel
all safe and secure.
I completely relaxed then,
while we talked about the things
I thought you should be doing
for the people I love; you love, too,
and I suspect you love them
a whole lot more than I can imagine.
When I told you
what a mess they were,
you nodded as though
you had your doubts
about my descriptions
of their sorry condition.
You leaned back then,
splashed water on me,
and told me with laughing eyes
you had it all covered.
That you were real busy
making everything new.
You got the giggles,
when you said that you were
fixing me up, too.
It was a real good day.

Prayer 2

You’re so comical, God
with your funny little ways.
Don’t you know I’m catching on to you?
Don’t you think I’m getting it?
All these little tests and trials.
Really now,
not enough money in my account,
too few moments in my day,
so many problems I can’t solve.
So I am all stressed out and half afraid,
thinking you are high and mighty,
and very far away,
when all the time you’re right beside
with that big, soft hearted smile,
twinkling, laughing eyes,
whispering my name,
reaching, touching, caring,
running just ahead
or maybe just behind
always out of sight.
Oh, I’m starting to get it now.
I’m slowly catching on.
You can’t keep your distance, can you,
even when you try.
‘Cause you’re in love with me,
wooing, courting,
singing love songs over me.
Trying to tell me of that love.
Wanting me to love you back,
and prove my love,
a thousand different ways.
To trust you,
to know that you don’t leave.
Yeah, I’m starting to figure it out.
I’m starting to get it now.
But it scares me half to death,
‘cause this could get really serious.

Prayer 1

A thousand conversations we have had,
talking past each other’s longing ears.
I pretend to know you well,
speaking of the things I’m sure you’ve said
--maybe only wish you’d said--
keeping up appearances for those who overhear.
Raging, cursing, shouting how it ought to be
when I think that no one sees or cares.
you barely even whisper then,
so very hard to hear.
I imagine you with head in hands,
pain-filled eyes closing to my darkness,
a disappointed father, a sad distracted son
sitting at a table in a dimming room,
a picture with no words attached,
memories rewritten to fill an emptiness,
painting me the hero, you the villain,
for someone needs to take the blame
and so you do and did and will.
I think I must exasperate you
with my incessant whining cries,
the way I pout and beg for more
on top of everything you’ve given.
I’m sure sometimes
that you don’t know me well,
or pause to truly hear my heart,
though that is what you claim to do.
You try to make me think that you are good,
most days I don’t buy that line,
and simply close my ears
and wish that you’d give up on me,
though that is something
you refuse to do.