Friday, January 13, 2006
A Prayer of Thanks
O Lord,
some days,
when I feel so frightened
or angry,
or stressed out,
and I wonder how to respond
and be true to my calling
as someone who longs to follow you
with all my heart,
thank you for reminding me
that you are my strength,
that you are the one who steadies my steps,
that you are the one
who holds my hand,
and walks me through it all
even in that darkest midnight
when I see no hope at all.
And in the refining fire
in the fire of your transforming love,
open me up,
make me more transparent to your light,
and in my confusion,
help me not to say
my will, not yours.
May my life reflect your will, not mine,
this day and always,
Amen.
O Lord,
some days,
when I feel so frightened
or angry,
or stressed out,
and I wonder how to respond
and be true to my calling
as someone who longs to follow you
with all my heart,
thank you for reminding me
that you are my strength,
that you are the one who steadies my steps,
that you are the one
who holds my hand,
and walks me through it all
even in that darkest midnight
when I see no hope at all.
And in the refining fire
in the fire of your transforming love,
open me up,
make me more transparent to your light,
and in my confusion,
help me not to say
my will, not yours.
May my life reflect your will, not mine,
this day and always,
Amen.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Anger: A Prayer
Anger burns
in my heart,
and longs to jump from my heart,
to my tongue
to the minds of those
who have hurt me,
how it wishes to consume them all,
that anger,
like a grass fire sweeping over the prarie,
or exploding trees in a stand of fir,
leaving nothing behind
but ash,
and dust
and black.
And yet, Lord,
as I pour through the water of your word, O Lord,
I stand ashamed of this fire,
eating at my heart,
so different than the soothing balm of forgiveness
you have asked me to be generous with,
the kind word spoken
instead of the burning one,
the cup of water given
instead of the curse,
prayer,
care,
and love
instead of fire.
O Lord,
I see how you showed me,
when all men's hands seemed turned against you,
and you forgave,
you offered up your misery,
bore our griefs,
gave your heart's blood.
O Jesus,
may your blood put out this fire
that asks me to harm,
may your touch heal my aching,
so that I can go forth
walking in your shadow,
bearing your light,
the light that heals
the waters that salve,
the balm that saves,
this day and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
Anger burns
in my heart,
and longs to jump from my heart,
to my tongue
to the minds of those
who have hurt me,
how it wishes to consume them all,
that anger,
like a grass fire sweeping over the prarie,
or exploding trees in a stand of fir,
leaving nothing behind
but ash,
and dust
and black.
And yet, Lord,
as I pour through the water of your word, O Lord,
I stand ashamed of this fire,
eating at my heart,
so different than the soothing balm of forgiveness
you have asked me to be generous with,
the kind word spoken
instead of the burning one,
the cup of water given
instead of the curse,
prayer,
care,
and love
instead of fire.
O Lord,
I see how you showed me,
when all men's hands seemed turned against you,
and you forgave,
you offered up your misery,
bore our griefs,
gave your heart's blood.
O Jesus,
may your blood put out this fire
that asks me to harm,
may your touch heal my aching,
so that I can go forth
walking in your shadow,
bearing your light,
the light that heals
the waters that salve,
the balm that saves,
this day and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
Home
That place of memories,
like the smell of chocolate chip cookies
baking in my grandmother's kitchen,
the taste of spice and oatmeal
and morning coffee,
or the anxiety I felt
asking my dad to tie my brownie uniform tie,
report card day
losing a job
late night TV on a Saturday evening,
or the place of sadnesses,
like at my grandfather's funeral.
Home
That place of acceptance,
Where you belong in spite of yourself,
Like an irritating three year old who will not take a nap,
Or a moody teenager who wrapped
Emotion and adventure around herself like a cloak,
Like resting as a baby in your mother’s arms,
Like sitting with her on her last day,
holding hands at the hospital,
connected,
loved.
Home.
That place of returning,
some day,
one day,
where I will stand before him,
he who still bears the scars of his caring,
the hard carpentry of true love's calling,
and as he takes my hand
he will say,
Welcome Home.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
That place of memories,
like the smell of chocolate chip cookies
baking in my grandmother's kitchen,
the taste of spice and oatmeal
and morning coffee,
or the anxiety I felt
asking my dad to tie my brownie uniform tie,
report card day
losing a job
late night TV on a Saturday evening,
or the place of sadnesses,
like at my grandfather's funeral.
Home
That place of acceptance,
Where you belong in spite of yourself,
Like an irritating three year old who will not take a nap,
Or a moody teenager who wrapped
Emotion and adventure around herself like a cloak,
Like resting as a baby in your mother’s arms,
Like sitting with her on her last day,
holding hands at the hospital,
connected,
loved.
Home.
That place of returning,
some day,
one day,
where I will stand before him,
he who still bears the scars of his caring,
the hard carpentry of true love's calling,
and as he takes my hand
he will say,
Welcome Home.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
Dust
O Lord,
my life without you is dust,
a dry, barren dust
slipping through the fingers of time
until it all blows away,
leaving nothing
but a dessicated residue,
a shadow
a dry memory.
O Lord,
yours is the breath
that gives life to this dust,
yours are the living waters
that leads this dust to bloom,
Yours is the hope,
the peace,
the love.
Remind me, O Lord,
that even as the darkness gathers,
you are the light.
That even as my feet tremble
and the road seems to fade,
you are my sure compass.
That even when all seems lost
you are there,
and will be there
every step of the way.
When the cup I am asked to drink
seems like bitter poison,
remind me of the cup
you drank down to the dregs for love
and with that memory,
grant me the strength to live for you
this day, and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
my life without you is dust,
a dry, barren dust
slipping through the fingers of time
until it all blows away,
leaving nothing
but a dessicated residue,
a shadow
a dry memory.
O Lord,
yours is the breath
that gives life to this dust,
yours are the living waters
that leads this dust to bloom,
Yours is the hope,
the peace,
the love.
Remind me, O Lord,
that even as the darkness gathers,
you are the light.
That even as my feet tremble
and the road seems to fade,
you are my sure compass.
That even when all seems lost
you are there,
and will be there
every step of the way.
When the cup I am asked to drink
seems like bitter poison,
remind me of the cup
you drank down to the dregs for love
and with that memory,
grant me the strength to live for you
this day, and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2006
Labels: Discipleship, Need for God
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Here
At times
when I hear the news
and look at the world around me,
I could almost give up
so dark a picture they give me,
making my little work seem useless,
But then you come, Lord,
to chase away the shadows
like a child carrying a single flower
as a gift
and brighten my day.
Here, you whisper,
here is where I want you to be,
here is where you work,
be my light to the grocery clerk,
be my witness to the woman down the road,
be my sign to the schoolteacher,
your family,
those who come your way.
Here is your monastery,
among the pots and pans and laundry,
here is your mission,
among the family, friends, workers, strangers
here is where it matters.
Be my salt,
be my light,
be my leaven.
O Lord,
guide me in the ways of holiness
in the here and now,
be thou the center
from which my strength comes,
this day,
and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2005
At times
when I hear the news
and look at the world around me,
I could almost give up
so dark a picture they give me,
making my little work seem useless,
But then you come, Lord,
to chase away the shadows
like a child carrying a single flower
as a gift
and brighten my day.
Here, you whisper,
here is where I want you to be,
here is where you work,
be my light to the grocery clerk,
be my witness to the woman down the road,
be my sign to the schoolteacher,
your family,
those who come your way.
Here is your monastery,
among the pots and pans and laundry,
here is your mission,
among the family, friends, workers, strangers
here is where it matters.
Be my salt,
be my light,
be my leaven.
O Lord,
guide me in the ways of holiness
in the here and now,
be thou the center
from which my strength comes,
this day,
and always,
Amen.
Susan E. Stone, 2005
