Dusty

Is this what you meant, O God, when you said that we are dust: Did you mean that our bodies would grow weary and our spirits would feel dry? Did you mean that our banishment from Eden would necessitate a lifetime of psychiatric therapy and chiropractic care? Did you mean that we would no longer be able to distinguish noise from knowledge, or beauty from deception, or love from power? We have wandered so long, O God. We wonder if at last we are deteriorated enough, broken enough, dusty enough for you to save us?

Until Then

In my heart a prayer is whispered
for love,
for love,
for love.
Until then, O Christ,
teach the whispers to sing a lullaby.

In my heart a prayer is whispered
for hope,
for hope,
for hope.
Until then, O Christ,
weave the whispers into a dream.

In my heart a prayer is whispered
for peace,
for peace,
for peace.
Until then, O Christ,
grant the whispers their rest.

Chores

Today I will sweep cobwebs, O LORD,
mindful of the ways that dust has sifted
and settled into the corners of my spirit.

Today I will sort mail, O LORD;
I will pray for trees that became
junk mail and for earth’s renewal.

Today I will change the batteries, O LORD,
starting with the smoke alarms even though
tomorrow they will warn again of my cooking.

Today I will write words, O LORD,
trusting that mere nouns and verbs
can bear your good Word to hearts.

Today I bless you, O LORD, in every task;
as I procrastinate and as I work, I will pray.
By some miracle, may you be glorified in it.