prayer

 

I wrote this entry in my journal to describe what I thought then was my mid life journey, which started after what seemed then endless climbs in my youth:

I see myself on a vast stretch of flat dry land with one long straight road ahead. I am in the middle of it, walking. The land on both sides of the road is almost empty. The whole place is silent. I don’t see any person, any movement, or any living creature except for few grasses that thrives on scorching sun. My eyes, after a quick survey of the terrain, fix its gaze on the road ahead. My feet are telling me to just walk. There is no reason to run just as there is no reason to rest. The walk is the rest; the purpose of the walking is the walk itself.

Looking back now, I think this image represents more what my prayer has become, rather than my midlife state. As children we learn to speak not so much because we were taught to speak but more so because we needed to relate. That’s how we learn to pray also. We pray because our souls long to be connected to its Source. We pray because of the intimacy that it affords. But what happens when the feelings we associate with intimacy is no longer there? What happens when God seemed so silent? What happens when He seemed not there? Do we stop praying?

We are pilgrims, just keep walking (praying). As Thomas Green, SJ said, “prayer is life”. The walk is the rest; the purpose of the walking is the walk itself.

Over the years I have learned to leave to God what He does best – run my day.