A Prayer When I Feel Pulled in a Thousand Directions

This prayer erupted from within me on a random afternoon. After I wrote it, I recognized it as a prayer that could have been written by many people, saying much the same thing as I have said here. So many of us experience this uncomfortable pulling. Whether it is happening within us or outside of us, the pressure of being pulled in so many directions can make us feel like we are on the verge of falling apart. But something happens when we focus on that “one thing” of the Gospels (Luke 10:42)—the presence, the person of Christ. There is peace in that one thing, enough peace for today.

A Prayer When I Feel Pulled in a Thousand Directions

Lord Jesus,

I feel pulled in a thousand directions today.
I feel it in my mind, making endless decisions.
I feel it in my heart, seeing conflict around me.
I feel it in my hands that don’t know what to do next.
I feel it in my feet, tired of running from place to place.

Jesus, I need peace.
Peace in my mind, heart, hands, and feet.
Peace in my family and world.
Peace in my days, hours, and minutes.
Peace in all the places and people in my life.

I do not need answers.
I do not need an end to the work that awaits me,
the people that need me, or the future you desire for me.
I only need one thing—you.
You and your peace.

 Amen.

A peaceful scene on Pentecost morning in central Minnesota. Photograph by Hans Christoffersen.

My Quiet Day: A Simple Idea for Holy Week

Like many people, I’ve fallen into the habit of sound. To the natural sounds around me, I’ve added all kinds of extra sounds that fill my days. It’s amazing what a phone can do.

But yesterday I had a quiet day. It wasn’t silent, but it was quiet. There were all the sounds that are normal for me and my life—the dishwasher running, the boys playing, Eli at the piano. The wind blew, cars passed, a small plane practiced large circles overhead. People spoke, and I spoke back. But in between the sounds of my ordinary day, I didn’t fill the crevices with headline news, podcasts that would entertain but not change me, or anything else my phone can do. It was amazing how many times I could have—and started to—but didn’t.

Two things felt really good during my quiet day. It felt good to enjoy the natural sounds around me instead of the extras. Even though it wasn’t silent, it still quieted my spirit. It turns out that the birds of spring are so much more interesting—and a million times more soothing—than a news report. No doubt the world still turns; the news will be there tomorrow. It also felt really good to know that I can stop myself from listening to those extra sounds, if I want to. Sometimes we aren’t sure about that—about whether we can stop doing the things we feel compelled to do.

A quiet day was just what I needed, right on the brink of Holy Week. So many people have told me that this year Lent hasn’t felt like Lent—that it seems to have passed before they could even begin to dig in, or celebrate, or commemorate. But we have this one week left. We can still do something simple to prepare for these days of glory.

Why not try a quiet day one day this week? It doesn’t have to be silent. Just don’t fill the extra moments, those little openings that want to be empty. Let your soul rest. It will feel really good, and it might create some sacred space in your heart—or perhaps, more importantly, your mind. These days our minds need rest as much as our hearts—maybe more.

Let’s allow Holy Week to play out—quietly, beautifully. There is still time to dig into these days.

You are all in my prayers!
Amy

Crocuses announce the start of spring during a walk on my quiet day.

The Shape of Prayer

As many of us are doing these days, I’m trying to reach out, to keep the people I love close to me. I recently wrote to my dear friends Epi and Joan. They responded with news both good and bad—the joy of a new grandchild, the pain of a family member lost to COVID.

Joan shared this story with me, and I wanted to pass it on to you. I found it both comforting and thoughtful.

“Last fall, there was a severe wind storm at night. I was up praying and wondering if it was going to turn into a tornado. Then it came to me that at least two neighbors, Ernestine and Lil, were also up and praying. I thought of them as points of prayer—the three of us making a triangle. Then I thought there were surely others praying, changing the triangle into some sort of polygon. This gave me great comfort. Now, as I pray for our nation, I think of you as another prayer point. Let's keep adding and stretching this prayer shape.”

We are all in this together—pandemic, political unrest, hopes and fears for the future. Yes, come what may, we are in this together, stretching this prayer shape, finding in prayer the strength to act and the discernment to know how to act; finding in prayer the perseverance to carry on, the wisdom to do right, and the softened hearts to love one another.

And may our prayers lead to peace—in our consciences, our homes, our nation, and our world.

An intricate web holds the shape of prayer. Photo by Mary Weems.

A Prayer when Putting on a Mask

The ideas within this prayer are simple. Even if you don’t remember the prayer, you may remember the gist of it and say something similar as you put your mask on to go out into the world. Praying for all of you during this time!

A Prayer when Putting on a Mask

Loving God,
   I wear this mask to protect others.
   I offer you any discomfort it may bring me.
   I pray for those who are ill today.
   While my face is covered,
   may my eyes look upon the world with your love. 
Amen.

Masks with Eli.

All Souls Prayer

My prayers are with each of you on this All Souls Day, especially with those who have lost loved ones, friends, coworkers, and companions of all kinds this past year. May our Healing God comfort you. May the memory of every life that touched yours be a blessing forever. Amen.

All Souls Prayer

Holy One, Creator of all,
today we pray in gratitude for every life that has gone before us.
For those who were faithful, we bless you.
For those who were searching, we praise you.
For those who were lost, we implore you.
We remember those who have recently died:
   the terminally ill, those we lost suddenly,
   those with cancer, those with COVID,
   the lonely, the suicidal,
   the young, the middle-aged, the old.
For every life, we thank you.
For every life, we praise you.
For every life, we bless you.
Amen.

Prayer by Amy Ekeh, © Liturgical Press 2020, published with permission

Glass window, Holy Infant Church, Orange, CT