Quiet Reflections and Prayers
At a certain point,
turning back
wasn’t really an
option.
Continuing to
push and try
to force any pieces
to fit at all
began to look
a little silly.
And so I vowed
to allow
myself to blend
a little more
completely
with the quiet prayer
I held within
my heart.
The longing
to know the deepest
kind of peace
led to questions
and surrenders.
It led to an expanded
view of life
and pain
and love.
It led to my own
deepest heart
and to the quiet prayer
that reached back —
recognized
and honored at last
as my own true
voice.
There was something
sacred
in having healed
to the core,
the memory of
the veering off
from the more widely
traveled path,
and the gentle way
it seemed
to circle back
to reach the most
tender treasures
surrendered
along the way.
From the outside,
the changes
seemed subtle
at first.
But from within,
it was clear
there was
something different
here —
a steady kind
of deepening,
a whisper of peace
where there had been
none,
a contentment
independent of
outer circumstances
and past struggles,
but always connected —
a life unfolding
sweetly
out of the quiet prayer
within my heart.
And there was nothing
subtle about that.
At a certain point
there were no preformed
words —
only the deepening
sense of surrender
to the unfolding
of life
without holding
back —
this flowing love
embracing
more of itself,
naturally —
until it wasn’t clear
exactly
where holding and
letting go
had become
one.
There was a
tenderness
that came out of
having dared to
set down everything
I thought I knew,
for a moment —
so that I could
know my own deepest
heart.
Lead me gently
as I continue on.
Help me to show up
in each moment
with an open heart —
to experience what is
here —
knowing the connection
with my own
inner healer
in each moment —
trusting the ultimate
care of others
to their own —
remembering
the tenderness
and honor
in being a part
of this continuing
mystery
and of this great
love.
Amen
I gathered all
parts of me,
even those
most difficult
to hold.
And I held all
of me —
all of them.
It didn’t matter
how long it took
or that there was,
in fact,
no guarantee
that my holding
would make any
difference at all.
And I honored all
that had led me
to that point —
all of it —
because I had
made it to my
deepest heart.
And I set
it all
down.
Somehow I have learned
to hold
a little longer,
to listen
a little deeper,
to stand in chaos
and find only clarity,
to look through
all that is here
and see only beauty —
to reach deep down
into the depths
of despair
and know only love.
I found my
quiet prayers
naturally led
to the most tender
place in my heart
and in every single
experience.
Laurie's Notes 