Sunday, September 15, 2013

Dear God,

Beepers ring out.  Alarms sound.  Carts roll up and down the hallway.  Doctors walk in and out of the room always taking a squirt of antibacterial something or other.  Nurses bring meds, scan patient bracelets, and type into computers. Maintenance engineers empty the trash, wipe the floor, and swab the toilets. The chaplain comes over the intercom and offers a prayer for patients, doctors, nurses, cleaning personnel, visitors, for those dying and those living, for new babies, secretaries, and other hospital employees.  A new norm for us as we continue our stay in the hospital.

I am an advocate for daily rhythm.  I like the see saw of daily activities.  I like the sounds of daily living and the sound of blessed quiet.  I love the sacred rhythm of your presence coming in a loving touch and a prayer far off.  I love knowing someone somewhere is lifting up my husband at your call to be generous.  I love the solitude that allows a divine moment where human and God touch one another.  I love simplicity, reducing life into small, simple pieces.  I love the early morning sun and the unassuming evening sunset reminding me of the beginning and ending of each day.  I love the blackness of night because it reminds me to search for the light in different ways.  I love the steady lull of a cradle being rocked at night, the tender, gentle hand of God rocking us back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Holy God,
Heavenly Father,
Wondrous Comforter,
thank you
for the beauty
of daily rhythms,
for signs
and wonders
of sacred activity,
and for
gentle touches,
all reminders
of your
living presence.

Love, Andrea