"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when,
whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees."
In this house, we pray.
We pray before meals- usually Millie asks a quick blessing, spoon in hand. We pray at bedtime, when we draw the covers to her chin and make sure she has her stuffed monkey. And we pray when someone we love is sick, or when Walter tumbles and bumps his head. Last week, Millie asked to pray after hearing the sirens outside from a train/tractor collision. It's done without ceremony, and with confidence.
At night, when soft white stars appear across a navy blue sky, I close my eyes and whisper a few words of my own before my breath slows into sleep. Usually, it's for Millie and Walter. Sometimes, it's for my marriage. And nearly always, it's for me to be a better mother tomorrow than the mother I was today.
Tonight, my prayers are sips of lemon ginger tea with extra honey. They are a sore head and achy bones. They are something metal pinging in the dryer. They are pages of the new book I've started and lost myself in. They are lips that are empty, with no more energy to carry words. They are pillows flattened against my spine. They are the reasons I go on when I cannot go a second more. They are the hope for better things ahead.
I am sure He created this heart. I know He hears the heartbeats.