Under the Green Desk Lamp…
’On my little bed I lie, heavenly father hear my cry…’
I used to recite the words as a child. I’d say them all in their proper order, send the requisite blessings to my family and loved ones, then toss in any other things I might want hand-delivered by the most gracious of deities. I thought I was pretty good at prayer.
These days, I begin to wonder.
Looking around, I think of all the things I might now pray for. Gone is the lust for material goods, and dwindling the desire for fame and fortune. As I lay me down to sleep now, I might pray for greater understanding in the world, for peace and love among humanity. Then I open my eyes and look around, and the comfort of prayer is replaced by the tremulous perception of a cold and wayward reality.
‘Always pain before a child is born.’
Daily I might weep for the lost surety of childhood, when light seemed certain to triumph. But these days are dim, and hope flickers like a candle suffocating on its own excess.
‘Still I’m waiting for the dawn.’
But I no longer feel that prayer is about asking, so perhaps I had it all wrong from the get go. If there is room to improve, it must start within, and no man can hope to change the world without first changing himself. Here, there is much that I could ask.
‘Take this mouth,
So quick to criticize.
Take this mouth,
Give it a kiss.’
So again I lay me down. I close my eyes, and wonder what to say. What can be asked at this point, for myself, for the world? Foolish is he who looks for such answers. The great people and moments that have changed the world have often come when least expected yet most needed. Grace, I suppose, is not a thing to calculate, but rather to be thankful for, and to never forget.
‘This love is like a drop in the ocean.’
I still have a lot to learn.
-Brad OH Inc.