Quiet Reflections and Prayers
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.
For the nurturers
of consciousness
and holders
of all things
sacred and
unseen,
I offer my quiet
prayer
and vow to continue
to honor
and follow
the sacred unfolding
of the path of
the heart.
Amen
May we find
a place of
stillness within.
And may we
live
from this place.
Amen
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 found my deepest
peace
in turning
down the volume
around me
and within
just enough
so that I could
feel
my own quiet
prayer.
And so I always
returned to
this.
Lead me
gently back
to the tenderness
within my
heart.
Soothe my scattered
mind.
Hold my weary
soul.
Love me
when I have
forgotten
how to love
my Self.
Amen
I found,
in each moment,
connection with my own
higher self —
the most gentle,
quiet prayer
just beneath the surface,
no matter what
was appearing.
Even when the world
seemed too noisy,
I found comfort
in knowing it was
still there.
I hold this
silent prayer —
for somehow prayers
just know
when to go
a different way.
Instead of going out,
they turn around
and gather in —
where speaking
becomes listening —
like praying in reverse.
At times
when contrast
and noise
seemed to get
louder,
I found it most
comforting to focus
on the quiet prayer
that never left
my heart.
I had stood
on the edge.
I had looked darkness
in the face.
I had searched
my own soul
down to the core
and held the tiniest
point of light.
And I had grown
tired.
I had screamed
and cried.
And I had
given up —
for a while.
I had found comfort
and regathered
my heart
in pieces
and yes,
prayed —
to whoever could hear —
again.
I had listened
to whoever dared
to share
anything that resembled
what I had known
and let go of
and knew again
in that moment —
without a doubt.
Laurie's Notes 