Today, like most days, there are only a million things on my mind.
Everything from a new foot scrub
to picking up some yellow tulips
to reorganizing our chaotic family room…
…to the deteriorating condition of the world that swings from hopeful to beyond repair with each passing moment.
And while my opinions and answers may be far-fetched and insignificant, I can offer these prayers about things we experience first hand or observe from afar.
I pray for those who are grieving today,
whether because of new wounds and losses or old.
I pray for those who are angry today,
whether because of harm they have recently suffered
or because of harm suffered for generations
at the hands of the merciless and powerful.
I pray for those who are afraid today,
whether there is imminent threat to them and their loved ones
or a persistent, unrelenting murmur of fear
because they are seen as inferior,
less than, without merit, without humanity, without dignity.
I pray for those who are haunted by the past today,
whether because of the memories they cannot bring themselves to voice
or because of the memories that bring crippling regret.
I pray for those who have the courage to choose right over might.
I pray for those who have no choice.
I pray for the unseen, marginalized, disenfranchised and misunderstood.
I pray for those who do not see and do not care to understand.
I pray for those who have no hope – and for those who see hopelessness as failure and not a cry for help.
I pray for the mothers who say a prayer and blessing over their children each time they walk out the door – and breathe a thank you as they see each one return home.
I pray for the fathers who cannot adequately care for their families – not because they do not work hard but because their hard work is of little value to the rich and entitled.
I pray for the sick and infirmed who cannot afford the care they need – and those who pray for death because life is too painful to endure.
And I pray for the ordinary, regular, every day people who look at the troubled world and feel their puny anxiety and pain does not qualify for the concern or attention of Jesus.
Jesus, who loves us more than we can imagine and waits for the sound of our voices. The Savior of the world who knows when children are gunned down, when sparrows fall, when our hearts are broken, and when we don’t know what to do about the family room.
Jesus, who waits for our call when we don’t know what we need or want or how to ask…
… or who doesn’t wait, but gently whispers words of comfort and relief into our battered souls.
It’s been a strange day. I’ve had complex and conflicting feelings weaving in and out of each other every hour or so. But it seems a good day to hope that our prayers will bring us both renewed energy and determination to continue to live with unselfish hearts and generous hands.
And, although I am unsure about the condition of the world, I believe in us… and I believe the family room will get straightened out just fine with a little imagination and more than a little muscle.
And remember, until we write and read again, I pray for you …