Mary Oliver's poem about prayer and promise just gets to me. I am learning that prayer is not about asking for things but listening for the Spirit and exploring its questions. Lost a dear friend this year. Wasn't the first. Know it won't be the last. And yet absorbing the loss, weaving it into a shawl of comforting memory is elusive. It hurts, big time. So before me is that question about that one wild and precious life, more poignant than ever. I am going to work on memorizing this poem. And call on it in the days to come. http://maryoliver.beacon.org
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?