The Earth's Psalm

The earth sings it's praises, slow and deep, but frighteningly powerful, like a determined old man. With a rumble the ground shakes as stones of the earth are clapped together in praise. The birds with their high and near constant songs are momentarily silenced, in awe of the effort this old man earth puts into his shaking song of praise. Then, as if strained by the effort of his singing, the earth falls still and silent again, and only after a silent amen does the rest of creation resume it's cacophony of praise.

Prompt: Write a psalm of praise about the earth or by the earth.

Who am I?

Somehow in the blur of life,
I’ve become a little lost,
forgotten who I am,
let myself get so busy,
trying to pass as something,
that I no longer look like me,
now I’m trying to remember,
to rediscover,
who I am.

You say I need to get to know me,
and I know you’re right,
but my heart tries to fight it,
looking for an easy way out,
or a simple escape,
from the truth.

I look inside and I cry,
broken pieces remain,
of a neglected spirit,
I used to cherish.

An artist,
a writer,
a singer,
a poet,
a creative flower,
in need of water.

Pieces of me cry out for attention,
wanting to be known,
like I used to know me.

A Branch's Prayer

I stand alone, bare and naked against the harsh chill of winter. Waiting. But I'm not really alone. I am just one limb growing from a sturdy trunk. I am just part of the whole connected to roots reaching deep into the unknown of the earth. I reach to the sky as my tree's roots reach downward, lovingly gathering me sustenance from the earth. I give thanks I am not alone and in the spring I will blossom because I have my tree supporting me.


Prompt: John 15:4 Imagine yourself as a branch and write a prayer of thanks for the tree.

Wait for the Lord

It feels like I’m waiting forever just for my life to start. I’m stuck in a unhealthy place, looking for the reset button, and waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting for healing. Fighting for urgency in a painfully slow process. Take a step and wait, take a step and wait. When will the waiting end? When will I have the strength for more than merely surviving each day? When will I be joyful again? When will I feel whole again? If I can’t be fixed now can you at least give me the patience to get through the process?


Prompt: Isaiah 8:17 "I will wait for the LORD, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in God." In your prayer-writing, tell God about your waiting ... about your (im)patience ... about your hope.

Prayer

"Do not be afraid for God is with you."

I feel small and alone. Scared not at an awesome presence like the shepherds saw but at the nothing, at the feeling of being all alone in a tornado of life. Where are you when I feel alone? I know you're there somewhere, I know you're always present, but sometimes it's easy to forget, easy to feel alone. Help me remember your presence even when I feel lost and alone.

Praying Through the Fog

God,
I know this fog won't last forever, but right now it feels endless. I feel stuck and weighed down and lost in a near endless fog. Help me remember I'm loved through the fog. Guide me out of this darkness and give me strength to find life, to live again and to be your love for myself and others.

Why I Like Old Cemeteries

If anybody else is there they can't really blame you for it or get upset if you're crying for no apparent reason - they'll just assume it's cause somebody died and you miss them.

Little to no traffic/car exhaust to gag on.

Fresh air and open, but not too open space.

Feeling connected - it's a place to rub up against history and imagine what peoples lives where like and how this and that person with the same name were related.

Reading gravestones is like people watching, only less chance of being caught.

It's a peaceful place to walk.

Feeling like a natural part of the cycle of life.

Being reminded life is finite and to make the most of it.