Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Life, with all its challenges
and miracles, had a way of leading
my heart back to the quiet space within
and the setting down of all of the tangled up,
unresolved thoughts —
the difficult step of tossing everything else
up to God.
Time and time again I found myself
in a place of too much —
the only clear option being
to return again humbly
to my deepest heart
and begin again from there.
And so I remembered how to listen
to a different voice.
It was in that moment I knew
for sure that I could trust again
in the mysterious unfolding
of life.
I had, for a while, turned my back
on the quiet prayer within my heart —
my very essence,
the one thing that connected me with
all that was true and real,
only to return stronger
and with greater reverence
for all that was human
and all that was Divine.
After a while I learned
to let go a little more deeply
into the mystery.
I had allowed myself to feel
the quiet prayer of my heart.
And so there was no turning back —
not really.
it didn’t matter how many challenges
appeared in front of me
or how many times I found myself
straining to regain my footing in a world
I had tried so hard to understand —
grasping for any small sign
of something meaningful or true.
I became willing to set down
everything else in exchange
for one more small memory
of my soul.
And so every experience,
no matter how painful or beautiful,
eventually led back to my heart.
It didn’t matter how long
I put off the inevitable prayer
of surrender.
Every single time I found my way
to that quiet prayer
and the immediate respite in
the instant recentering.
It didn’t matter that much of life
remained messy and parts
of the unfolding story would
most likely bring with them
a tenderness almost too raw to bear.
All of it eventually ended up
in this place.
The delicate process of holding on,
letting go, and reaching without grasping
led to a gentler path.
There I learned the value of
tenderness and became willing to
set down many things in exchange for
a deeper connection with life.
I knew without a doubt that
whatever appeared would eventually lead
back to a tender place in my own heart.
And so I became willing to bear the ache
of leftover traces of unhealed and
unresolved experiences —
willing to be in this place where there are
no guarantees —
willing to show up in each moment
with a quiet prayer and renewed reverence
for the sacred journey,
however it unfolded.
The transition into tenderness
required delicate footing.
I learned to look a little
more deeply into my surroundings.
Nothing was at it seemed,
but that meant
something beautiful must be
hidden beneath what appeared.
I learned to look a little more deeply
into what was there,
intuitively drawn to remain
in each moment —
no matter what —
determined to find just one
small sign of beauty
when at first glance,
all was dark —
holding each faint whisper of hope —
becoming more determined with each step
to help it to grow.
With one more last sliver of courage,
hoping for the best
and being willing to face whatever appeared,
I vowed to continue on —
settling in a little more deeply —
holding what was right there
in front of me,
as best I could —
embracing each new moment
as a prayer.
What looked like a dead end
to the path less taken
turned into more of
a vertical journey within,
reflecting outward.
and becoming even more connected
with God and with my own
heart.
There was a gratitude beyond words
for each tiny piece of truth
that added to an unshakeable knowing —
the remembrance of my very essence
that could never be broken —
a tender space
where there had once been
only pain.
I learned to focus
and remain centered within
my heart.
I found respite in the sacredness
when the world around me seemed
unreachable,
and I couldn’t seem
to bridge the gap between my inner
experience and the outer chaos.
The harder I tried,
the bigger it became.
I remembered back to times before
when the only solution I could see
was to let go of my heart
in order to survive and somehow
manage to fit in.
But this time I had traveled too far
and learned too much.
And so the only thing to do,
having reached the end of the path,
was to stand still right there in my heart,
in the middle of the chaos,
and hope for the best.
I found a little magic
in the reclaimed ability to transform
all that was painful
into something tender.
It was each momentary remembrance
of the first time
I dared to turn down the noise
around me and inside
that carried me gently back
to my heart again
and again.
It was the courage to stand
in the quiet space within
just a little longer,
allowing all that was unsorted
and unhealed
to be held without condition
just a little more deeply
that attuned me
to the continuous quiet prayer
in my heart
and reconnected me
to my soul.
Laurie's Notes 