A Prayer for Tired Hearts

Read the inspiration behind #brownpaperwords.

As a writer, searching for the right words is typically exhilarating & satisfying. But becomes tiresome when I can't find the ones I'm fighting for. So it is then that I seek to lean on anothers'. 

Here are some words that I have been leaning on, from the book Guerrillas of Grace. It is a prayer for the tired hearts. 

"Hear me quickly, Lord,
for my mind soon wanders to other things,
I am more familiar with
and more concerned about
than I am with you.
O Timeless God, for whom I do not have time,
catch me with a sudden stab of beauty
or pain
or regret
that will catch me up short for a moment
to look hard enough at myself—
the unutterable terror and hope within me
and, so, to be caught by you. 

Words will not do, Lord.
Listen to my tears,
for I have lost much
and fear more.
Listen to my sweat,
for I wake at night
overwhelmed by darkness and strange dreams.
Listen to my sighs,
for my longing surges like the sea—
urgent, mysterious and beckoning.
Listen to my heart beat,
for I want to live fully
and stay death forever.
Listen to my breathing,
for I gulp after something like holiness.
Listen to my clenched teeth,
for I gnaw at my grudges
and I forgive myself as reluctantly
as I forgive others. 

Listen to my growling gut,
for I hunger for bread and intimacy.
Listen to my curses,
for I am angry at the way the world
comes down on me sometimes,
and I sometimes on it.
Listen to my cracking knuckles,
for I hold very tightly to myself
and anxiously squeeze myself into other’s expectations,
and them into mine,
and then shake my fists at you
for disappointing me.
Listen to my sex,
for I seek fulfillment
through the man-woman differences
and beyond the differences
a new, common humanity.
Listen to my foot falls,
for I stumble to bring good tidings to someone.
Listen to my groans,
for I ache toward healing.
Listen to my worried weariness,
for my work matters much to me and needs help.
Listen to my tension,
for I stretch toward accepting who I am
and who I cannot be.
Listen to my wrinkles,
for growing years make each day
singularly precious to me
and bring eternity breathtakingly close. 

Listen to my hunched back,
for sometimes I can’t bear
the needs and demands
of the world anymore
and want to put it down,
give it back to you. 

Listen to my laughter,
for there are friends and mercy
and the day grows longer,
and something urges me to thank. 

Listen to my humming
for sometimes I catch all unaware
the rhythms of creation
and then music without words
rises in me to meet it,
and there is the joy of romping children
and dancing angels.
Listen to my blinking eyes,
for at certain moments
when sunlight strikes just right,
or stars pierce the darkness just enough,
or clouds roll around just so,
or snow kisses the earth into quietness,
everything is suddenly transparent,
and crows announce the presence of another world,
and dogs bark at it,
and something in me is pure enough
for an instant
to see your kingdom in a glance,
and so to praise you in a gasp—
quick,
then gone,
but it is enough.
Listen to me quickly, Lord.
Amen."