mother's prayer :: holiness for them

Can you take this mother-wretch and make me holy?

Not for my sake, but for theirs?

I can live with my ugliness, but they do not deserve to. 

Take the bitter, the sharp, the crushing, 

and make me sweet, smooth, uplifting. 

There must be grace for this,

grace greater than the gaping hole of my failures.

There must be holiness for this,

holiness purer than my puffed-up self and gnashing flesh.

Holiness for them.

Not for me to spit and polish and show off - 

But for their beauty. 

Only your spit and mud salve can make me see, 

make me clean, make me a fitting funnel for your kindness.

Oh Lord, you who wash our feet,

let me stoop with you awhile. 

Let me not lord over them with my airs,

but serve them with your graces.

Even now you pour the water on my cracks and callouses,

reminding me where the power of authority begins. 

I will lay aside the garment of my false entitlement.

Toe by toe, you make what I have trampled into holy ground. 

Hear the heart’s cry - Not only my feet, but my hands and head as well.

When I am at the end of myself, you can begin, even again. 

Let me love them to your ends. 

~lg

S.D.G.

noon prayer :: autumn bounty

Christ, our God, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise:

For the small, warm hollow of my baby's neck
For hot pink beets dug fresh from the cool earth
For a living blaze of orange in the farmer's field
For spiced tea and flavourful conversation
For flannel sheets flying high on the line
For the scent of the forest floor as children crush leaves underfoot
For neighbours' fires rising like incense in the dawn
For the table, hand-hewn strong, to carry these armfuls of thanks


~lg

S.D.G.

A Renewed Prayer Habit: Gathering Treasures at Noon

It's no coincidence that this time of year turns my thoughts to thankfulness. It is well known that a habit of gratefulness has many benefits. This time of year we are also still working to get our new routine into place, finding our rhythm in this particular season of life.

I thought it would be a good time to become a little more intentional with another habit of prayer - noon thanksgiving. (To read more about habits of prayer, click here.)

For me, thanksgiving is a fitting way to mark this "hour" of prayer. Here's why:

1. Noon is usually busy! We are finishing up our morning activities and moving into lunch preparation. I'm usually in the kitchen, often multitasking. But offering a few words of thanks to God does not actually take that much "extra time." It's something that can be woven into whatever I'm doing. (This is an example of how we can practice the presence of God.)

2. Noon is usually visible. 12:00 is easy to spot on the clock. Everyone sees the hands pointing up and they get hungry. It's a good trigger to pause. It's a good reminder to lift my thanks up. It's also tied to the eating of lunch, and one of the best ways to get a new habit going is to piggyback it onto a well established habit. (I won't be forgetting to eat lunch anytime soon, trust me. I'm a hobbit at heart.)

3. Noon can be a little stressful. By this point, enough things can have gone wrong to start to sour the day. But a little thanksgiving can rescue it. Gratitude fills my thoughts with the good, the true, and the beautiful. Gratitude can change perspective, and that can change my attitude (coincidently, the only one I can control).

And so it seems a fitting time to give my thanks and praise.

A fitting time to gather the little treasures of the day and turn them over in my hand.

A fitting time to take note, to take joy, to take part in all the goodness the Father lavishes on us.

A fitting time to look up and simply say, "Thank you."


~lg

Summer and the Givenness of Grace

It’s been internet ages (aka almost three weeks) since I’ve posted anything! What ever happened to the end of June? What happened to my month of prayer? 

Well, summer happened, that’s what! We’ve been camping, beaching, gardening, and partying. We’ve had a couple rounds of family visiting from away. We’re going to Fiddle Fest! Summer has its own rhythm. Some days it feels like swinging between crazy-busy and hazy-lazy. It’s not a bad thing at all, just different. 

The prayer journey is ongoing. I’ve been reading several books that have been expanding my ideas of prayer in indirect ways. I’ve been mulling. Meditating. Morning prayer really is the one practice that gets the day going on the right track. Some of my other prayer time “anchors” have become unmoored with our different routine. But I’m trying not to “get my shorts in a knot” (as my mother used to say!) about it. I know that when summer is over, we’ll all settle back into more predictable days. 

In the meantime, God is still there. And we’re still talking. It’s not about becoming a slave to particular prayer practices. Those practices are tools. Those practices are tracks to my desired destination, but they are no substitute for the welcome upon arrival. 

This thought by Sarah Mackenzie has been keeping my company the last week or so. It’s from her great little book Teaching From Rest. In it, she talks about the seeming impossibility of our task as mothers. To a certain extent, our inadequacy is a given. Our own resources are never enough. She writes,

“I don’t really have any idea how I’m supposed to tackle everything ahead of me in this day, this year, this decade when that’s all I’ve got. It’s just a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish.

Apparently, that’s all He needs.

We are weary because we forget about grace. We act as though God’s showing up is the miracle. But guess what? God’s showing up is the given. Grace is a fact.” (pg. 15, emphasis mine)

Ah. I’ve been letting that sink in a bit. It might be easy to think that all my good habits and discipline are getting me closer to God. And it may be true, in part. Those are all ways that I respond to His call to “draw near.” They are for my benefit. But beneath and above and around it all is the reality - He is there. I don’t have to conjure Him up. His presence is the given. “Grace is a fact.” 

I could beat myself up over the fact that I didn’t have a regular devotional time at all this past week. Or I could be thankful about that book I read on the way to the beach that caused me to wonder about God in a different way. I could recognize the love of God in the faces of family members we don’t get to see very often. I could marvel at how one passage of Philippians that I read two weeks ago is still giving me something to chew over. 

There’s so much grace all around me. So much God. He is never far, even on the days I forget to pray. I can relax a little, knowing that my inadequacy is a given. But so is grace, and because of that, I can rejoice a whole lot. 

~lg

When You Need to Push Pause on Life

There are days I seem to be living life in fast forward. It can wear me out and chew me up. Voices garble, movement is jerky, and in the frenzied passing of scene after scene, I may have lost the plot.

I need a pause button.

I need a way to stop the madness, be still. I need a way to refocus. I need some quiet. I need to breathe. 

I need to pray.

Prayer is the pause button for all the crazy.

Prayer changes the channel. 

Prayer connects me to a source that gives, rather than drains. 

This pause puts the day in perspective. God gives me His eyes to see the details that matter. His voice is made clear over the constant chatter, and it is music to my ears. He reminds me of my place in the story. He gives me peace. 

And when I push play again, the pace somehow evens out. Life is not flashing before my eyes, and I am no longer the helpless spectator. 

Prayer is the pause that invites God to enter the scene. It is the space for Him to jump back in, so we can walk together, work together, play together. 

~lg

Movements of Morning Prayer

It’s morning, and time for prayer. I uncurl, adjusting to the light. I lay flat, not really ready. I try to form thoughts, but they are slow and drowsy. My brain can’t focus. And so I pray with my body.

I stretch. Awake.

Awake me to Your presence. Wake me to the shining light of Your smile. Awake me to Your truth, goodness, and beauty. Wake me to Your voice. Wake me to wonder, wake me to you.

As for me, I shall behold Your face in righteousness;

I will be satisfied with Your likeness when I awake. 

(Psalm 17:15)

He awakens me morning by morning,

He awakens my ear to listen as a disciple.

(Isaiah 50:4)

The LORD’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

(Lamentations 3:22-23)

I stretch upward. Offer. 

I offer all that I am for all that You are. Weary arms, feeble knees, wandering feet. Day breaks and I pour out this offering once more. As I raise my offering, raise me to life. 

Present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, 

which is your spiritual service of worship. 

(Romans 12:1)

And you shall love the LORD Your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, 

and with all your mind, and with all your strength. 

(Mark 12:30)

I stretch outward. Align.

Align me with Your plans and purposes for this day, and these people. Align my energies with yours so that I will not grow weary in doing good. Align me with Your heart. 

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven. 

(Matthew 6:10)

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, 

which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. 

(Ephesians 2:10)

For it is God who is at work in you, 

both to will and to work for His good pleasure.

(Philippians 2:13)

I stretch. In You I live and move and have my being. In all that I do, let me move toward You. Ready for this day. 

Awake ~ Offer ~ Align

~lg

Day 13: Pinholes of Prayer

Some days my own small-mindedness and selfishness forms a crust over my spirit. I’m stewing on the inside, hardening on the outside. I lose the ability to be flexible, to be gracious, and the smallest prick can set off an explosion. 

But when I puncture my day with prayer, here a little, there a little, I become permeable. I am soft to the Spirit, and slower to anger. God breathes through these pinholes of prayer and my soul expands in His presence. The light dances in and I can see beyond myself. 

~lg

Day 11: Prayer in the Onion Patch

It's been a quiet week. I'm slowly feeling my way back into things.

I find it easier to pray when I'm moving or working. I was thinking that today, while planting onions. Planting onions, washing dishes, watering flowers, pacing with the baby, digging weeds, walking by the river. Maybe it's like kids playing with lego while they're listening to a book being read aloud. With their hands busy, their minds can focus better.

I pray better in the morning if my body has had a chance to wake up, to move around, to get the blood flowing. My physicality can bolster this ethereal task of prayer.

I also find it helpful to engage more of my body in prayer. To lift my hands in a prayer of surrender. To kneel in petition. To dance in praise. To reach, to move toward something. To somehow mirror with my body what is happening in my spirit.

I wonder if we can be too immaterial when it comes to prayer sometimes. We are physical beings as well as spiritual. I think God wants to engage us as whole persons. His Spirit is capable of that. From the beginning we had bodies in which to walk and talk with Him. And in the end, we will know the glory of resurrected bodies. And we will see Him who even now has an actual body, for the Incarnation was no temporary experiment. Our bodies matter.

And so I find myself, spirit, mind and body, reaching toward encounter with Christ. Oftentimes, the more of me that prays, the richer the connection. In some ways, prayer is movement. The movement of spirit to Spirit, but also, in a very real way, of body to Body. (And of course, the movement flows both ways.)

My fingers in the soil, they are touching earth that has been hallowed by His footsteps. My knees in the dirt, they bow in faith to the seed that will be raised incorruptible. Dig, plant, pat, repeat. Water, watch, hope. Pray.


~lg

Day 6: Morning Clarity

This morning, instead of going online first thing, I went to the Psalms. I was still groggy, still a little unfocused. But this is what happened.

When my six year old daughter padded into our room a few minutes later, my mind wasn't filled with Facebook images and updates, news and forecasts, things to catch up on, or the opinions and concerns of other people.

The room was quiet, and my head was quiet.

So when I looked up from the printed poetry, I saw her face in all of its subtle, sleepy beauty. I set the book aside and pulled her in next to me and the dozy baby. I didn't feel interrupted. My connection with God moved naturally into a connection with my daughter. No screen between us, no web obscuring things. The room echoed with sacred words, and I found my own words calmer, and deeper.

God's presence made me more present.

It's bedtime right now, and I honestly can't remember what I read this morning. But I remember my daughter's face and her Snoopy pyjamas and the clarity between us. The words became flesh, and that was a moment worth dwelling in.


~lg

Day 4: A Robin Sings

It's 4 AM. Dawn has begun its slow stretch toward the sun. Out the window, there is not yet colour, only the lifting of shadow.

I think of You through the watches of the night.

A robin is singing. The horizon is not even perceptible, but this light is enough to waken her song. Her chimes are a gentle call to prayer. She doesn't need full daylight. Just the promise of what's to come.

When I awake, I am still with you.

She sings, and I know I am not alone. I know there is beauty in the dim hours of morning. A quiet love rustles the trees and steals through the screen, breathing freshness over the bed.

I lie still, and know that You are God.


~lg

Confession: Fear and Weakness

Father,

Do you see me as a failure? Does your disappointment rise with the stacks of dirty dishes? Do you get fed up with my meltdowns?

I fear your retreat more than anything else.

Try harder, work smarter, let the baby scream, and git 'er done. Is this your voice? Where are you when I need you?

I don't know what happened, but I hit a wall. I'm gasping for breath and the tears squeeze out on my pillow at night, and maybe tomorrow will be better and I'll see you smile, but maybe it won't, and I dread your silent disapproval.

Tiptoe through the mess, scramble over the mistakes, there's no rug to sweep this under. Put on a brave face, and above all, don't show weakness.

Do you understand. Can you understand? Do you want to? Or do I need my act together first?

The only thing worse than feeling weak is trying not to feel it.

I have heard you say, "My strength is made perfect in weakness." I have heard you say, "Love is patient, love is kind. Love keeps no record of wrongs."

Oh, give me ears to hear once more, and faith to believe.

If you really mean it, would you find your way over the mountain of my inadequacy, would you put your strong right arm around me and help me stand?

Do not despise my confession, or I will crumble. Will you love me in my weakness?



~lg

Day 2: Prayer Fail!

Today was a bust. I was going to pray. I was going to write about it. It was going to be (modestly) inspirational. It didn't happen.

Nope, not at all.

In the morning I was tired. I thought about praying, but decided to wait till I was more awake, and then I got busy.

In the middle of the morning, I was rushing around getting us all ready for a morning outing. We didn't sit down for a snack, so we forgot all about it.

At noon we were all hungry and cranky and the baby was crying.

Mid-afternoon the baby was crying.

My husband said grace at supper. Win!

The baby cried this evening too.

So here I am, past my bedtime, and I still haven't really prayed. I thought about it, but didn't actually do it. Does that count for anything? I suppose it's something that the spirit is willing. (The flesh, on the other hand, needs exercise. These darn habits can be so hard to get going!)

I'm trying to think of some fitting Bible verse to meditate on as I drift to sleep, but I think I left my Bible downstairs and I'm cozy in bed. I'm even too tired to google it. The only thing I can think of is this:

Into Your hands I commit my spirit. 

I'm not trying to be melodramatic, I'm just worn out, and I believe for tonight He will take me just as I am. Sleep is a gift and I will embrace it with thanksgiving and try again in the morning.



~lg

Off-Kilter: Praying My Way to Life Management

Time has an odd quality to it these days. My newborn is now two months old, and though it seems she's been here forever, I can hardly believe how April and May have disappeared. With many things being new, and other things being busy, we haven't really settled into a routine yet, and I am feeling slightly off kilter. There doesn't seem to be enough time in the day for what needs to get done.

Many aspects of life need balancing, and I'm not sure how to go about time management. Then again, it's not just time management, it's physical bodies and actual spaces and a thousand tactile things, not to mention my own brain. I need life management!

Maybe there's a blog or a book or a planner or a magic schedule that could figure this all out for me, but the trouble is, those things aren't personally invested in my life. Helpful as they may be, they don't know the needs of our family, won't step in and finish the dishes, or soothe the baby, or read to my kids, or dry my tears of weary frustration.

So it's June 1st, and I would really like to feel less dizzy this month, but how?

I had an idea late last night. Now, it could be the smooshy wishful thinking of baby brain. Or it might just be a lightning bolt from heaven. We'll have to see. But this is what I thought as the baby finally settled into the bassinet:

Maybe I can pray my way through this. 

Yes, there is always the "Help me God!" cry that I know never goes unheard. But I've written before about a habit of prayer, the kind of prayer that punctuates and permeates the whole day. Habit has the power to change things. And even more, God has the power to change life.

Sadly, but perhaps not surprisingly, many of my prayer habits have fallen by the wayside lately. I need to pick them back up. I'm not sure exactly how this will work with the flexibility that a young baby requires. But I'm going to put this thing to the test. Is a habit of daily prayer possible at this stage? And does it have the potential to bring order to my whole messy life?

What gives me hope is that I won't be entrusting my days to some nebulous idea of "time management." I'll be entrusting them to God himself. And I know he is definitely invested in my life. Ok, maybe he's not going to scrub the pots for me, but at least I can talk to him while I do it.

What if I counted my day by prayers instead of hours? What if I could find a greater rest beneath the busy moments? What if I could see the to-do list through His eyes? What if I prayed my way to life management?

I'm willing to try. And I'm hoping to write a bit about how it all goes here. We've all heard that prayer changes things, but maybe you're a mom with a new baby and scattered thoughts and laundry that is literally never done, and you're not sure. Or maybe you lead some other kind of busy or fragmented or stuffed-at-the-seams life, and you're not sure. Can it actually change the everyday? Can it bring order to chaos and meaning to mundane and space to breathe?

Let's try it.

~

To read more about my journey of prayer, click here. 





~lg

morning prayer :: Psalm 139

Routine looks a little different these days with a newborn in the house. For me, morning prayer has been taking place with my little one during her first morning feeding. I have a Book of Common Prayer beside the bed, and I find it easy to grab with one hand and flip to the psalm selection of the day. It's an honour to share the rich language of the psalms with Ivy. Yesterday's reading was Psalm 139.

~

There is a small pink person curled up in bed beside me. Her face is smooth with sleep, her hands tucked up to her chin. She is beginning to stir to the sounds of the morning and the brightness of the bedroom. I read the psalm for this morning, and the words "fearfully and wonderfully made" settle over with a hush. She is half hidden in the blankets, barely a speck in this big universe, and yet she rests in the counsels of God.

So delicately knit is she. The very handiwork of God,  a perfect poem formed into warm flesh and kissed by the breath of God. His fragrance lingers on the curve of her mouth, and when I kiss her my own lips tingle with a knowledge too wonderful to attain.

Where does joy come from? From the heart that beats eternal, whose rhythm echoes in all He has made and stops us short to simply gaze at the face of a child. Look and wonder. See what He has done!

"Marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well."



~lg

Noon prayer: magnified joy

At the height of a mid-March day,
the sun is hidden beyond layers of stratus clouds.
Snow falls and a trio of ravens circles the sugar-topped pines, gliding above the slow footed creatures below. They glide above the slush and mud and slump of this temperamental season.

A the height of a mid-March day,
they remind me to look up.
To number my blessings by the flakes that descend,
to hold each crystalline wonder against the black pupil of my mind's eye,
to behold their beauty suspended in this moment and give thanks.

These blessings can float by unnoticed, small as they are, but now I enlarge my vision and capture them for what they are - all the little gifts that collide and stick together to shape my hallowed landscape.

The ravens move on, and so will this day.
Time to turn from window-gazing to worthy work,
but I hold these frames yet, and I will go imprinted by magnified joy.


~lg

Lent Is For the Birds

Winter is truly here with a respectable -22 C morning. The snow is crunchy and crystalline, and the river shivers under its growing skin. Life stirs house by house, as first one plume of smoke and then another rises out of the neighbours' chimneys. All seems still, silenced by the cold, except for the birds of winter.

I've neglected the birdfeeder lately. The odd chickadee hops over to investigate their previous source of food, then flies off to search for other, more generous backyards. I miss them. I miss the chatter and flutter and closeness of small life.

I miss the messages they carry from another kingdom. Over the years, they have been to me heaven's carrier pigeons. (For God's voice is woven and wafted throughout all creation.) A year ago, a bird was somehow tied up with the beginning of this journey of a life of prayer.

Lent is a time for fasting. But it's also a time for feeding the soul.

This Lent, I've decided to feed the birds. 

Junco - Carrier of secrets, she knows where to find the hidden seed. She knows the song of the wind.

(Give me ears to hear!)

Chickadee - Cheerful herald through winter's cold, constant companion of woods and windowsill, bright bringer of joy.

(Give me a heart of joy!)

Sparrow - Common beauty building her nest, crafting a refuge of kindness out of bits and pieces, gathering nature's scraps into a soft bed for her young.

(Give me wings of kindness!) 


We will go out into the cold and fill up the feeder, scatter the seeds, and send our invitation. We will watch and wait for the birds to come back. We will listen, and learn, and lean close. We will feed the hunger of winter.

We will wait for the return of the birds . . .

~lg

afternoon prayer :: abiding joy

There’s an intrinsic connection between abiding in the true Vine and true Joy (John 15). If I’m feeling my joy waning as the day wears on, it’s a sign I need to reach and root into the source of my life. Mid-afternoon is the perfect time to pause and become grounded.

It’s as simple as closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths, imagining my inner life as the flow of sap between a vine and a branch, picturing the vital connection I have to love, beauty, strength, joy, and fruitfulness. It’s breathing His name – Jesus – as prayer, as petition, as practicing the presence of God. It’s drinking this aqua vitae from a well I have not dug. There is a peace that flows in, a moment of waiting, and then the strength begins to rise.

His life in mine, and mine in His, and ours together breathing and becoming one – ah yes – His joy becomes mine and mine becomes full. 

~lg

noon prayer :: beyond counting blessings

The day is at its peak, but I'm lagging in the valley. It's an effort to look up, to engage my mind in blessing counting of any kind, and yet I know this arithmetic will figure the day either for better or worse.

Sun glinting on steadfast river
(Glitter and paper bits ground into the floor)
A stack of library books eagerly devoured
(A stack of housework waiting to devour me)
Cheerful chatter of imaginary play
(Marbles, marbles rolling everywhere)

But these are not to be given equal weight. The equation doesn't work that way. I am missing something in the formula. There is a Sum greater than these parts.

The Source of all beauty
The Counselor of infinite wisdom
The Father who delights in His children

The gentle God of lowly heart who says,

Rest is received in yoking with me. Let us join our labours and ascend the hill together. Do not grow weary in doing good, for all of this counts. Keep in step, and I will order your day. I will make the fragments add up in the end. Come to me. Come with me. 

Oh, I am too tired for mathematics, but here is an outcome I can rely on. Beyond counting blessings to counting on Him.


~lg

The Rhythm of Sunday

Sunday - the first day of the week.

The seven-fold rhythm, set from the beginning, now begins with a resurrection, with worship, and rest.

His finished work becomes our new beginning. Out of worship and rest we rise to meet the week and its work.

All our work - bracketed by His.
All our work - energized by rest.
All our work - a movement bound by celebration as its beginning and end.

No matter the tune the week sets before us, we know the reprise. His chorus will break forth again, and we will hear Him singing over us, singing the song that makes all our days holy.

Without this beginning, we are out of tune, out of step, and the days pile up like bricks of slavery, the nights rise as bars of iron.

Oh, that we would learn to measure our days with His time signature!

Feel the pause, and then the swell of a glorious ascending glissando.

Get in here, at the first movement, and His music will carry you through the rest. This is the invitation to redefine your week according to His rhythm.


~lg

morning prayer :: for a groggy day

I lift my eyes to the Ebenezer hills, thankful for small mercies after a sleepless night. The sun is here to warm and cheer, and I give my tired praise, even as I prepare another sick bed for the day. At least there is some calm, at least there is some coffee, at least there are home comforts for the least of these.

I pause to look out joy - I will need its strength today. This but a little trial labour, to see how joy may progress through contraction.

But the One who needs no slumber will lend his arm to the weak, and will give his rest to the heavy-laden eyes. Right here, between the river and Ebenezer, my Help will come.


~lg