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.
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 of my heart –
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.
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 —
to be in a place where there are
no guarantees —
to show up in each moment
with a quiet prayer and renewed reverence
for the sacred journey,
however it unfolded.
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.
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.
It was difficult to hold
many things.
It was difficult to comprehend
that the world wasn’t
how it appeared on the surface.
I had known that at an early age
and had continued on.
It was disheartening to know
and be unable to be heard —
as so many times before.
Yet I remained thankful for strength
to hold it all anyway —
and to remain connected
to God and to my heart
this time
and to welcome new friends
and new experiences
as I learned to notice
and nurture the smallest
bit of hope and pure joy
again.
I found myself within
a natural flow,
a constant creative process —
a subtle, prayerful transformation
set in motion by one quiet prayer.
I learned to keep going
whenever things didn’t look at all
like what I held in my heart.
I learned to hold my ground
just a little longer —
trusting somehow, one more last time,
in the transformation into tenderness.
I intuitively understood
that if I was going to reconnect
with my heart,
I would need to risk setting down
old ways of coping
and moving through
a whole lot of fears.
What I had found was subtle
and tender, and i just knew
if I was to return to any form
of numbing or distraction,
I would miss something I wasn’t
willing to let go of again.
I had come too far.
And so the decision was made,
and that first step into
what I later called a prayer break
was taken.
The respite found immediately
was a vast contrast
to all of the striving and searching
and disconnect I had experienced.
I never turned back.
After a while my life existed within
an expanded prayer break,
a gentle reconnectionÂ
with a deeper part of me
and a return to the natural flow
of life, which I experienced as
a continuous transformation into
tenderness.
Somehow I had dared
to listen to the quiet prayer
in my heart.
I had tried and exhausted
every other option
in my search for peace.
Truthfully, there was really
no better option.
It was shocking at first to,
in a sense, start over again
in my search.
But I began to sense a natural
peace within me and allow
this peace to expand — ever so slightly.
It was a sensing from within,
a quiet prayer from a deeper me.
It didn’t matter so much if things appeared
peaceful on the surface.
It didn’t depend on my body
or mind being still.
What mattered was my
willingness to show up just
as I was and to be with whatever
met me there.
Laurie's Notes 