My only New Years Resolution was to write a prayer a day in a Diary – a Prayer Diary.
The year is only a babe yet I have kept my resolution, late at night after the darkness has fallen and all the house is asleep, sometimes one day running past midnight, yet I have done four.
My prayers are faltering when placed by Biro onto tree, squashed and rolled into destination to God in me. As though slipping through the lips of someone else.
There is a disturbing trend in my written Prayers in that they come from somewhere I rather would not be. They express themselves in rhymes and tiptoe around the tricky bits,those things in me I rather would not vocalise.
So they land upon my page ploughing crooked furrows in my brow as I narrow my eyes to consider if I really want them there.
Reading our written prayers can be more confronting than hearing our prayers trickle extempore from our lips.
Mouth and heart are far more honest than the mind, writing the prayer I stop to read the sound of it ,as though auditioning for God. Whereas when praying aloud the wisdom of my heart sends the Spirit’s utterings straight up to the heavens. Into the mind of God who hears with consideration my pleas, confessions and thanksgivings.
I am no fool to believe that I can hide my unreconciled,conflicts of my proud and artful self from God.
My written prayers stem like weeds from the uncultivated place where broadcast seeds struggle to survive. From the rock behind which I hide them from myself.
Good Lord deliver me from my cowardice that I must bring before myself in dot point reminders those things I would rather remain well buried within the furrows of my brow.