Thank you, Rachel!!!!

Today, I just got a new book in the mail, at the suggestion of my wonderful friend Rachel, who is beautiful, and whose heart is even more beautiful: Between Heaven and Earth. Yes, I'm in the middle of my workday, but when a package comes in the mail run with my name on it, and I KNOW that it's the book I just ordered, it's hard not to rip it open and take a peek right away anyways. It's a compilation of prayers and people's musings about prayer, and even in my random flipping through its pages, it has already blessed my socks off! Here's a tidbit:

Why do we pray?

For reassurance, sometimes, because it's an uncertain world and each of us needs our spirit bolstered from time to time. For guidance, sometimes, because it's an uncharted way we travel, and we need all the direction we can get. For help, other times, because the way is long and almost always uphill and sometimes perilous.

We pray for our daily bread and our yearly physical. We pray when we wake up in the morning and when we go to bed at night. We pray when we're confused. Or lonely. Or sad. We pray when we're happy, too. And when we're grateful. Grateful for seeing a hummingbird up close or a double-rainbow off in the distance. Grateful for a good friend who was there when we needed someone to listen...or there when we needed someone to speak. We pray for reasons as slight as a sudden feeling of appreciation for a cloud that shades us from the sun to one as serious as a lingering sense of abandonment in the face of some personal tragedy.

Partly, though, at least, we pray to find the part of us that is missing. Like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle that draws attention to itself by its absence. Like the empty space on a wall that calls out to be filled with a picture or a piece of furniture. Like the bare spot in a lawn that yearns for grass. Prayer is a cry from the bare spot in our lives, from the empty space, from the part of us that is missing. It is the wounded part seeking to be healed, the missing part seeking to be found, the now-dry clay of the sculpture seeking the hands that first touched it, first caressed it, first loved it.

Somehow, I think that's exactly why I pray. And it seems to make "praying without ceasing" a little less daunting of a task. :) Thanks for the book suggestion, Rach!