It goes a little something like this:
I can never tell if I wake in the morning from the ever pressing cold (which somehow finds it way through the layers of blankets and overthrows I attempt to smother myself in) or to the persistent chirps and meows of my cat’s desperate plea for his morning kibble. My first instinct (besides the annoyance and exhaustion) is to close my eyes and pray before anything else.
It’s never original and almost leaning on muscle memory at this point, but I begin with thanksgiving and gratitude for another day. Another day to breathe and to work.
Speaking of work, I ought to get up and start getting ready.
What day is it again? Is the meeting meant for today or did I set it for the day after tomorrow?
Sorry, I didn’t mean to not focus. Lord give me strength for today and courage to be a light in the workplace.
Why is it so cold? If there’s snow outside, I should probably steer clear from driving , but then I’ll have to check the train times…
Watch over my family and help grow my heart to love others and those I meet — may I live only wanting to please you.
Oh shoot, I fell asleep. Um, protect my loved ones and give me a heart that desires to serve you — *blank*
Ah okay sorry…man, why is my brain not cooperating…I entrust this day to you. Use me for your kingdom purpose.
The train is going to take too long. I might as well drive and I should probably start it up first to get the engine running. But geez…an idle car is no good for the environment…but I’ll be driving anyways so the environment gets screwed either way.
May everything I do and say glorify you…let not one little moment go by–
Did I have that presentation finished…when was the client asking for it? Shoot, I better not have missed the deadline.
Aw dang it. I was praying um, right. Protect my family and loved ones,
In Jesus’ most precious name I pray, Amen.
I mean if this was a face to face interaction, I would be blacklisted from social gatherings, company parties and late night talks. In this day and age of distractions, my prayer life is less than ideal. But thank God that He does not rely on my broken and scattered phrases to understand what my soul cries out for.
My limited view of prayer is simply wrong. It has taken me down thought processes that emphasize how well I can communicate in an eloquent enough manner rather than in trusting upon God alone. Scattered prayers are part of the messiness of life. I have to remind myself constantly that not every prayer needs to be adorned with lovely metaphors and impactful imagery. As much as I would enjoy to see each and every prayer I make as productive and reflective as a prayer meeting, I must learn to let go of such standards.
I allow myself to think that my prayers must be written or said at a collegiate level, complete with strong grammar, groundbreaking poetic flow and in text citations to boot. How small my view of Him is…and how easily deceived I am that God would refuse to listen to the cries of “Lord, help me…help me…help me…,” over and over again for hours on end. Beyond the words of my mouth, He looks at the meditations of my heart and how thankful I am for that.