On October 7th, I prayed. Like I normally do and also totally differently.
A numbness and a pain to my prayer blurred me.
Days later I pray again. This time a question falls out of me.
I ask does the same God care about both these people? Or do I go to someplace else to pray for another people?
I sit in shame. I sit surprised I could ask such a question.
Shame in my prayer. Shame in my question. Shame in my short-sightedness. Shame in how I obscured my own vision.
A cracking inside.
Let me pray a different prayer now, a prayer I so desperately need.
Dear God:
Crack me open
So I cannot ask
Crack me open
Unable to harden
Crack me open
So I spill
Spill out
Spill out unable to ask silly questions
Spill out unable to ask silly questions
Spill out cracked
Open
To more pain than I could ever want
But the pain that at least keeps me from hardening
(Hardening must be the greatest offense to the recipient of my silly questions)
Please one who receives, crack me open so all I do is open. All I do is receive.
A life of too much pain has to be better than a life that separates my prayer based on the location of blood spilled.
