Prayer for Grace
Anne Lamott’s two best prayers are “Help me, help me, help me" and "Thank You, thank You, thank You." There’s not another description that comes close enough to my plea and yearnings these days. September has been a wild, wild rush and I’m still learning what it means for me to be present, to sit still, to take a step out of my busy routine and just allow myself to breathe. What it means to trust, to lean on, and to accept love as it’s given.
What a difficult time this is, for all of us- wild fires raging in California where I am, people still dying from the virus, black people exhausted and raging and grieving and still being killed. And of course, there are the silent battles that take place in homes, at the corner of a room, on the bathroom floor- people breaking and breaking, each fragment sapped of its life. And yet, there is breath in our days; somehow there’s renewal, recovery, or at least the possibility of joy. Because after all, aren’t we here? Aren’t we, tired and uncertain and pained as we are, still here and clinging to hope even if we won’t admit it, praying for ease over our hearts, over our minds, over the weary vessels of our bodies?
I marvel at my days, my discipline in getting work done, my ability to shove away distractions of any kind and face the heavy work of writing and reading. While I recognize that this craft demands such time and consistency, I want to strip off the delusion that it is what matters the most, that nothing else in my life will work if I so much as take a ten-minute break. I’m hoping to make some private reconciliations with myself, by taking care and remembering to step away from the desk and warm up a meal, fill my belly, stay hydrated, lay myself down to rest. To accept the responsibility and present joys that come with being where I am, having what I have and acknowledging that even while I know what is at stake, I do not ever want to lose ground to a life so driven by the fear failure that I miss out on living at all.
Help me, help me, God: To extend grace to myself. To forgive myself and know what to do with shame. To understand that the past and its worst moments are gone and have no hold on me. To stop searching for mercy from hands that can barely hold themselves up. To know You, to seek You, to earnestly pursue this life of surrendering, of light-burdening, marked by reckless love- the kind that overwhelms me, rids me of guilt, clothes me anew, strengthens and upholds me. To live this life of complete consecration, mindful of Your promises and attentive to what You surround me with. Help me wake up counting my day a blessing. Help me retire to bed with praise in my breath. Help me love well for I am afraid I am yielding an indifference that can wreck me without my knowing. Help me see when I’m the one causing the pain. Help me live my life thoughtfully, kindly; without obsession but with passion, without despair but with hope. Help me understand the difference between guarding my heart and building walls that keep me trapped. Help my unbelief, my self-centeredness, my pretense, my wrongful tendencies, my maddening compulsions. My own darkness which haunts me, my own light which blinds me. Help me nurture that which I hold in contempt- this body. Help me see divine all that You’ve made. A childlike wonder. A contrite heart. A deep stillness. Help me be.
Thank you, thank you God: For everything on this earth you have bestowed upon me, despite, despite…
