Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was reverence
for moments when I was
gently guided –
when I couldn’t see the next
needed step.
There was a familiar pull,
a whisper of hope
not quite heard –
the creative flow of life
in many forms.
I learned to follow
where my heart was turned –
to trust it would always find
a way to what was
most true –
to let go of everything and welcome
whatever returned.
Life had a way of leading
back to the quiet space within –
to the setting down of all
of the tangled up,
unresolved thoughts –
to the difficult step of tossing everything
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 a state of prayer –
to begin again
from there.
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.
There came a time
when 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,
let go of everything
and hope for the best.
The tenderness found
in that first moment of surrender
initiated me into the delicate process
of walking through the most
difficult times.
It taught me to hold
and let go of all that is
unhealed and unresolved
in me and in the world.
It offered a glimpse into our creative,
resilient human nature
that finds a way to look
a little deeper
for beauty and hope
and a gentler path.
I learned to find my way
back to the quiet space
within.
I learned to be okay
with a prayer
and a tiny spark of hope.
And I remembered
to never again let go
of my heart.
And so the essence
of every experience became
a prayer —
a continuous flow of love within
this whispers of truth
that had breathed me
back to life.
The quiet prayer in my heart
continued on
no matter how many times I forgot
to listen.
It was there in the quiet moments
when I dared to gather up all
of the confusion and anxieties
and frustration and ongoing traumas
playing out all around me.
It was there in the aha moments
when I became quiet enough to remember
all I had forgotten to gather up –
all the little bits of hope and the pure
miraculous way they still existed
after everything.
It was there when I remembered
just one small, sweet memory
of the journey –
a time when I seemed to be
completely alone but realized I was not.
In a sea of traumatic memories
and the long list of things lost,
what stood out, if I looked
and listened a little deeper,
was tenderness.
I learned to allow things to be
unsorted –
trusting in previous lessons learned
about truth and love
and the fluidity
of all states –
knowing beyond all doubt that
there is tenderness
in this place.
There were so many moments
of decision,
so many chances to take one more step
and to trust it was indeed safe to hold
out for truth
just one more last time.
I learned the art of turning inward,
healing deeply
all the parts of me that were
frightened and exhausted from years
of being disconnected from each other
and from God.
I learned there was a powerful
spirit of pure, real love —
not the imitation or false light
I had strived for.
No, not that.
This unexpected rising up of pure
Spirit was what had brought me
through trials and encouraged me
when I didn’t think I could endure.
And it was this very rising up
that, each time I glanced at the road
behind me, made the whole journey
worth living.
Laurie's Notes 