Monday, March 2, 2015

Writing to God: Day 11

Weekends are hard for me to keep this up.  So, obviously I'm behind on my prayers.  But, hey, it wouldn't be Lent if it wasn't challenging and we didn't mess up, right? Yea, sure, of course…. ;)

So, I did some adjusting with Day 9, 10 & 11.  And I'm picking back up with Day 10's prompt which for me is today - Day 11.  Just in case anyone was wondering….(note the sarcasm!).

Psalm 147:  A Song of Praise

A song of praise sounds a little bit different, depending on the one who is singing.

For me, it sounds like morning.

For some, it may rumble with the crashing and swooshing of waves on the shore of a sandy white beach.  And for others, it could be the patter of rain falling on a ground that has been dry too long.

A song of praise may have lyrics that unfold with the falling of shiny snowflakes, deepening in volume as they mix with the cold blanket on the ground.  And for some, the song sounds like the sticks that crunch and crack under brown, heavy boots walking the crooked path of a hiking trail.

I wonder whose song of praise begins with the setting of the sun; it's melody flowing with the pinks and oranges of the fiery sky just before dark?

Or what about the songs that move with the bouncing twinkle of a starlit sky - who is it, God, that sings those?

There are songs of praise that long for the warmth of the sun's rays.  And songs that beg for rain or the cool breeze of autumn air.  There are songs that cry out for answers when the flood waters keep rising or the storm winds blow relentlessly.  When the ground shakes and the lakes freeze.  When the sun burns a little too fiercely.

My song is the melody of the birds welcoming the soft light of a new day.  It sings the gentle stillness that hopes for peace, even in the midst of stormy weather.  Its chorus brings in the sun and, lots of times, I want to keep singing it just a little longer before the work of life begins.

My song of praise sounds like morning.
And today I can see the grass that was shivering under layers of winter snow.  And I hear the birds whistle a prelude to spring.

O God, you hear our songs of praise.  You gift us with the voices to sing them in our own unique ways.  And, thankfully, for people like me, this kind of singing doesn't always require a music degree or the ability to strike a chord on the piano.

Thank you for this gift of song and praise.  Hear us today, God.  Hear us and sing with us.
And open our ears, our eyes, and our hearts to listen with grace to the songs of each other.


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