Montana de Oro, California
The last number of months, I’ve been praying every day. For safety. For courage. For peace. It has become part of my routine, like drinking tea in the morning or brushing my teeth. Most often, I lie quietly on the couch, but sometimes I pause along my daily walk; I sit on a log or a park bench and I close my eyes. I listen to the mallards slurping in the eel grass, the song sparrows, the insistent chirps of the phoebes, the gentle ebb and flow of the bay rippling along the shore, kayakers calling out to each other in their faraway voices.
A mere three minutes every day, I pray for myself and for my wife and my family. My sister-in-law who is recovering from surgery. A friend who just lost her husband. I pray for my children and my yet-to-be born grandson who is barely the size of a grapefruit, but is already swimming and kicking and playing with his toes. I know this because of the miracle of ultrasound. I pray that all those around me stay healthy. I pray for those with COVID. I pray for reason, for facts, for enough ventilators, for the nurses who will vaccinate us. I pray that everyone will wear a mask. I pray that my turn to get the vaccine will come soon.
In the evermore existential climate crisis, I pray for the birds and trees and the earth. When the skies in California were smokey this past fall, I prayed with even greater urgency, that we might be free to breathe again. I pray for those who’ve been harmed. For anyone I have harmed. I even pray for a few of the people I struggle with. Fervently, and with as much attention as possible, I pray for President Biden and Vice-President Harris. I wish I could pray for Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley, but for now, I leave that to others.
Mostly my prayers are humble and unassuming, as if I am standing on the edge of our vast universe. May I be safe. May I be healthy. May I live in peace. My inner voice is quiet and tentative. I pray with reverence and hope and awe.
And then I stumble.
Sandpipers along the bay
I am brusque with a salesperson, impatient with my wife. I am stingy and unforgiving, jealous of what others have, even though I have everything I need—and more. I disappoint myself over and over again because I have forgotten that we are all trying to do our best. And besides, who am I to judge?
Sometimes it feels like the best I can do is to pray, which is not to suggest that prayer is a little thing. On days I’m feeling scared or overwhelmed, my prayers are more like the pleading of a lost child. Please, may we be safe. May we be healthy. May we live in peace. I pray for the renewal of trust, and the safekeeping of our dreams for a just world. For the strength and stamina to face each day. For comfort and contentment.
In desperate times like these, when I fear for our democracy, my prayers, that are even more urgent, are not for me—or for those close to me—but for others. Our elected officials, for the pages and staffers, the reporters who were all forced to take cover under their desks. They may not tell us they feared for their lives, but they did. I pray for calm and clear-thinking. I pray for reason and empathy and strength. I pray that we can all pause, long enough to figure out the right thing to do, and the best way to get there. I pray for forgiveness. I pray for accountability without revenge. I pray for justice.
Today, and in the days ahead: May we be courageous. May we be bold. May we be wise.
I invite you to read related blogs including Hope Arrives Like the Tap, Tap, Tapping of a Woodpecker and Thin Places: The Possibility of Transformation. And my novel, Thin Places, that is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle.
This is just beautiful, Elie. My awareness of my vast imperfections is often counterbalanced by my arrogance – “I know everything!!” This is an ongoing tension. Thank you for sharing this reflection.
Thanks so much Lynn. I’m finding this gratitude practice helpful, but still there are numerous course corrections :-). I hope you’re doing well in this crazy time and feeling lots of support after Bob’s passing. Hugs to you, Elie
Elie. Thank you for writing this thoughtful piece. It is heartfelt. It expresses beautifully what I am thinking.
Thanks Lynda! I’m hearing from lots of folks that this blog hit the spot. I’m so grateful. Looking forward to our Zoom call on Thursday. Hugs, Elie
What a thoughtful meditative piece – you write so beautifully from the heart. I’m with you my friend, wondering how we got here and what I’ve done, or not done, to help. “May we be courageous. May we be bold. May we be wise.” Yes
Thank you, thank you Stacy! This gratitude practice is helping, but boy it’s work to keep on track :-). Hugs to you and Barry, Elie
Bless you Beloved Elie for these powerful and profound words of supplication. I love “as if I am standing on the edge of our vast universe.” Thank you. You are truly Amazing Grace. Amen
Thank you Patricia! Glad you found this piece meaningful. I never was one to pray, but lately it’s become part of my daily life. Not sure how I got here, but I’m grateful.
Love to you and Michael, Elie
Heartfelt, thoughtful and so well expressed.
Thank you Linda! I guess you’re snowed in ;-). Must be beautiful. I hope you and Janet are staying safe. Hugs to both of you, Elie
May God continue to bless Elie Axelroth and all those close to her. She continues to shine light where there is darkness
Thanks Norm. Hope you’re doing well. Elie
I echo Norman Murphy… May God continue to bless Elie Axelroth and the joy she brings to others through her close connection with both her soul and her pen. This was beautiful Ellie. Thank you.
Thank you so much Colleen. I so appreciate your comment and I’m glad you found the post so meaningful. Hugs, Elie
Beautiful, Elie. I pray for wisdom in our elected officials to do the right things so that the rest of us can continue to live safely.
Thanks Beverly! Yes, me too!
I pray for patience and the ability to take one day at time. Beautifully written, Elie. Thank you.
Thanks Elaine! And I pray for being able to travel again ;-).
Reminds me of your earlier post here from Morocco, 2018, the call to prayer, 5 times per day. What if they rang bells here, or called out from a tree top several times a day? Always love hearing your thoughts/ words, so well expressed. Glad to hear of your practice. I have one of my own, somewhat similar. Blessings, sister, friend.
Thanks Paul! Looking forward to hearing about your own practice. Hugs, Elie
Thanks for this.
Thanks Marvin! And hope you’re well. Hugs, Elie
Inspired by your post, Elie, I sat in the bath today and prayed for my family/friends, nature, healing, wisdom, and normality once COVID is under control. I vow to give thanks each day, as you do, and ask for goodwill in the world. This post was powerful…..your reference to birds calming, and your writing exquisite. Thank you, my friend, for this comforting gift.
Oh, I’m so glad to hear this! I love this idea of sitting in the bath and praying. I have a notification on my phone–calming chimes–that automatically reminds me every day. It keeps me accountable, in a good way. Miss you and I hope you’re doing well. Hugs, Elie
Really love this, and loved the beautiful responses from so many people. Hugs and love