Thirst

Another morning and I wake with a thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the
hour and the bell; grant me, in your
mercy, a little more time. Love for the
earth and love for you are having such a
long conversation in my heart. Who
knows what will finally happen or
where I will be sent, yet already I have
given a great many things away, expect
ing to be told to pack nothing, except the
prayers which, with this thirst, I am
slowly learning.

-- Mary Oliver (1935-2019), American poet, teacher, and essayist, from Thirst: Poems, 2006.

Pray Yourself in Me

Lord, grant me to greet the coming day in peace.
Help me in all things to rely on your holy will.
In every hour of the day reveal your will to me.

Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul, and with firm conviction that your will governs everything. In all my deeds and words guide my thoughts and feelings. In unforeseen events let me not forget that all are sent by you. Teach me to act firmly and wisely, without embittering and embarrassing others. Give me the strength to bear the fatigue of the coming day with all that it shall bring.

Direct my will.
Teach me to pray.
Pray yourself in me.

-- The Most Rev. Frank T. Griswold (1937- ), 25th Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, 1998-2006

Servant

Whatever title, privilege or prestige
others may give me,
I am your servant, Holy One.

When I look at another,
may I do so with eyes
of compassion and generosity,
not of desire and deception;

when I speak to another,
may I do so with a voice
of wisdom and trust,
not of manipulation and arrogance;

when I am given a chance
to serve my sisters and brothers,
may I do so with an open heart
and outstretched hope,
not grudgingly
while worrying about my loss;

when you seek
to dwell in my heart,
may I empty myself
so I can be filled.

I am your servant, Holy One.

--Thom M. Shuman, in from Like Leaves to the Sun: Prayers from the Iona Community, 2013

Prayer for Discernment

Almighty, loving God,
We know that You are always near us:
let us turn to You and walk beside You this day.
Let us place our hands in yours,
and remember that You are our shelter, our shepherd, and our strength.
Help us not just to speak but to listen
as we seek to do your will.
Make us seekers of Wisdom by the power of your Holy Spirit,
that we may be true disciples of your Son Jesus Christ.
We thank You for this time together,
for fellowship, for guidance,
as we seek always to grow deeper in your Love.
Let all we do be done to build your kingdom,
O God, our Hope and our Help.

Amen.

A call to risky living: Part I (inspired by St. Brendan the Navigator)

Shall I abandon the comforts and benefits of my home,
seeking the island of promise our fathers knew long ago,
sail on the face of the deep where no riches or fame
or weapons protect you, and nobody honours your name?
Shall I take leave of my friends
and my beautiful native land,
tears in my eyes
as my knees mark my final prayer in the sand?
Christ of the mysteries, can I trust You on the sea?

Christ of the heavens,
and Christ of the ravenous ocean wave,
I will hold fast to my course
through the dangers I must be brave.
King of the mysteries, angels will watch over me,
Christ of the mysteries, when I trust You on the sea.

Have I the courage to leave the familiar
and journey into the unknown?
to journey beyond the way I have prayed,
the life I have lived, the sensible and the secure?
to trust God to take me beyond these familiar shores?

Christ of the mysteries, can I trust You on the sea?

--from Celtic Daily Prayer, Book One: the Journey Begins, "Follow the Example: Brendan the Navigator (486-575), p. 303.



Photo: From the Mountains to the Sea, a Promise, Monteverde, Costa Rica, March 2018, by Leslie Scoopmire.

For the interim time

When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,

No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come. 

In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems TO believe the relief of dark.

You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.

"The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born."

You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.

As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you have outgrown.

What is being transfigured here is your mind,
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.

-- John O'Donohue (1956-2008), from To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings, 2008

Evening Winter light at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville