Praying Toward the East

This week I have felt still. A complete lack of movement. There is a numbness that settles in when one no longer knows how to cope with surprises—like finding out yet another colleague is pregnant, being included in a “moms” activity out of pity or being randomly asked to baby-sit other people’s children because, well—you know—we’re the ones without them. When the world around me is moving forward and I feel still, all I can do is pray. These are the days I imagine waking with the sun, facing the East and sending out my prayers over the ocean, knowing that my child will be touched by them. I imagine the wind carrying them around this great blue globe turning on its side and eventually returning them to me. What keeps me praying is the assurance that the Holy Sprit is ultimately the power and love that guides this great breath, even when there is no sun to wake me, even when the ocean winds are calm and I can’t sense movement in my life. So I will continue to send out puffs of prayerful breath, in hopes that the wind will return them to me and give me strength. I will continue to break my communion bread in half, taking Christ’s body first for my child and then for myself. I will continue to search for movement in my life—even when I feel still. This is my prayer.