Today in my morning prayer, the Scriptures were from Luke, in which the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray. I looked up from my book and viewed the maple tree beyond my patio. Slowly, lovingly, and with inner knowing it was giving a nod to each falling leaf that it was time to let go. Truly, my patio companion was teaching me how to pray!
Oh, how I visited this view often in the spring to watch the buds take shape and birth forth the fragile beauty of the new leaves unfolding. I remember how each leaf participated in the dance of the April ice storm, the summer intense sun and rains, and the rush of tornadic winds . . . Now it's time to pray them in gratitude for their journey of resiliency and faithfulness.
And so with each falling leaf, I am being taught how to pray. To pray in gratitude for what was, for what is, and to pray in openness and hope for what will be.
I prayed in gratitude . . .
• for each person I have met along my summer journey as I listened to the joyful and sorrowful mysteries of their lives.
• for each memory of the tragedies of nature – floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, fires, earthquakes, and volcanoes . . . learning once again, that with some things there is no control, but only honoring our understanding to be in partnership with earth as its stewards.
• for each moment I gathered with friends to celebrate thresholds, turning points, anniversaries, jubilees, professions, passings, and fun times to mark the day and time.
• for each Birthday card I received . . .
• for each opportunity to photograph the streams, flowers, trees, mushrooms, birds, sunsets, and moon risings . . .
• for each time of prayer in which the silence spoke of Divinity . . .
May I continue to listen to the falling leaves as they teach me how to pray. For all that was, I give thanks. For all that is, I give praise for I am blessed, and for all that will be, I pray with openness and hope.
Amen . . .Amen!