A Prayer of Scattered Minds
God, I wonder what you are up to while I exist in this frenetic tetherball activity of heart and mind. So often it feels for sure like I have cut the string (bad girl!), but I suspect instead you’ve loosened the slack so I can really fly, and though I soar so far as to be unsure if I can even see you anymore, you are still the pole that anchors me to the ground, and it is on the far edge out here that I will learn what trust is. I am so afraid and so exhilarated, and I pray the breathless prayer of the free-falling skydiver: “Save me!” and “Wow! Look at this view!”
I am terrified, alert, distracted, and open, and these are the beginning birth-pains of faith. What will be born of all this agony? I do not know, and I am scared. What if I deliver a monster? Or, what if it is a gift, caged inside me–have I the right to deprive the world of God by fearfully clutching and keeping it in? I am merely a conduit, and fly I must, lest I hang limp beside the sturdy pole Who works in conjunction with the Wind to make me a life.