At the end of the week...
I look back over words said...
Meetings led...
Meals that fed...
Books read...
How do you evaluate 120 hours?
Miles driven
Faces seen
Silence taken
Joy observed
Pain let go
Projects crossed off
Compliments received
Criticisms processed
Who is to say what makes a week, "Good"?
Our boss may have one definition...
Our spouse and children another...
Our neighbor and person in need another...
Our lawn that needs to be mowed yet another...
Who is to describe and define a week as "Sacred"?
Maybe that is why our Jewish brothers and sisters stop on Friday night.
Do nothing for an entire day.
Let your body feel the exhaustion coursing through your feet.
Let your soul catch up with your heart.
Let the wind baptize your skin and bird sing to your heart while you sit outside.
Maybe prayer is less about words soaked into dark wooden pews.
Maybe prayer is less about seeing results.
Maybe prayer is just this one moment...so full of past...so ripe with the present...so hopeful of the future.
Maybe prayer is more than can ever be said and in the still small silence, we inhale and exhale and say, "Amen".
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