Holy Week ~ Wednesday ~ Prayer

 

If we are struggling to seek God single-heartedly, to learn to weep the anger out of ourselves is a matter of self-respect. —Maggie Ross

God amid the rollercoaster called Holy Week, there are so many emotions that stir and swirl within us.  We sense the joy and hope of Palm Sunday and the anticipation of Easter morning.  We know the woundedness of denial, betrayal, and desertion of tomorrow and Friday that connect those words to our story.  We know the pain of death and the empty chair at the table.  We know the ambiguous loss when relationships end abruptly, and the hurt of words spoken quickly feel like a thousand paper cuts.  This week takes an entire lifetime to unpack and even then, we will never fully understand.  So, today rather than more words, help us be still and silent.  Lead us outside where the trees teach and tell us of weathering a thousand years of storms, blinding sun preaches of warm love, and beauty of all that is moves us to speechlessness.  Lead us outside where the snails teach us a different pace of life, beyond production and our self-improvement projects.  Lead us outside where we might stand beneath stars like Abraham and Sarah feeling our own smallness in the vastness of Your expanding and evolving universe.  Meet us, O God, on this day as breathe and be in Your presence and prepare our hearts to hear again of the Last Supper, praying in the Garden with Jesus, the pain of Friday that breaks our hearts and souls wide open.  May the coming hours help us see that You are not distant from any moment in our lives, but You are there in the lonesome valleys and a thousand Alleluias and every ordinary or odd moment in-between.  Amen.