Why I Write My Prayers Down

My mother taught us when we were little, 

this is how you pray:

Hands together, eyes closed

Knees bowed and head low. 

I often squirmed, as little girls are prone, 

ran out of words to say and called it a day.

But lately I've been praying with my eyes wide open 

Phone in my hand and snack in the other. 

He took me by the hand once, 

lead me to the window... 

"What do you see?" 

How beautiful is the world you've made

The critters and the dirt

Even the rain

Surely a God that can do all this, create such beauty

With mere word from His lips

Surely He can do a great work in me

Surely I am blind and yet to see

What He has in his mind for me

The wind and the birds, they whisper, call out to me

Trying to rouse me out of sleep

Surely my honor will be greater than the trees 

Who dance and delight in the breeze

Their branches hang low with bounteous fruit

They are well-watered from the root. 

Surely their gardener will not me uproot

Surely He will plant me in truth

Keep me away from the soil of lies

in which all things die

The sun looks on from the sky

And bows to the Most high

Surely He is ruler of the sand and ever-shifting tide

Rise, oh little one, fickle and frail

He's placed on you a crown of gold and of Victory

Surely He has dressed you in His splendor

In robes of glory and light

With Him by your side

You can never fail. 

Bowing, you see... 

had nothing to do with my knees. 

But being, all He called me to be. 

Just the way the trees 

sway their leaves in praise 

And the birds sing a cheerful hymn 

How the salt water fish swim, 

not as chore

But first thought. 

Thus, head low...bowing with my pen

I whisper Amen.