Prayer, at times
Prayer, at times:
The taste in the back of your throat after a run.
The first sip of the drink you didn’t order. (The one they got wrong. Or, the one someone bought for you that you never get because it’s too pricey and you think you’re not worth it.)
The texture of that meal your Mum thinks you like, but you don’t, that you eat anyway to honour her.
Prayer, at times:
The waft of earthy metallic potential from a toolbox.
The smell of nothing in the morning, when you were sure you set the breadmaker going last night.
The first inhale through the dentist’s door.
Prayer, at times:
The ringing of a rigged coin flip.
The bit after the doorbell where you listen for footsteps.
The throb of a five-star gig, over the back fence somewhere, where your mates got tickets.
A one way phone call (is that a faint dial tone in the background?)
The whirr and clank of cogs and pulleys.
Crickets.
Or, the long-treasured texture and timbre and intonation of that friend’s voice – the one you thought you might never hear from again.
Prayer, at times:
A nose against the cold glass of a lolly shop, no coins in your pocket.
The rumble of your stomach, as friend after friend leaves the supermarket with full trolleys.
The cold handle of the meeting room door, for your professional review after a rough year.
The smooch of a cat that sometimes bites.
The bite of a cat that sometimes smooches.
The pointed indifference of a cat.
Or, stepping backwards to leave and finding your beloved was right behind you, with a kiss on the lips. (Flip a coin. Again.)
Prayer, at times:
The letterbox door.
The fridge light illuminating only all the usual stuff, again.
Other people’s shiny bags at the mall.
That perky health app icon, that you’ll get back into next week.
“Declined”
“Accepted”
The array of light switches in a new house. “Is it this one? Did it work? Is the bulb blown? Is the power even on?”
A hundred dandelion seeds, blown into the breeze, that land in the mud.
Or, the package. The One. On the doorstep. When you’d given up. Or before you’d even expected it.
Prayer, at times: a vote, a step, a dollar, a single stitch. One brick, one fence paling. Futility, but at any point potentially the final one before success, arrival, completion. Except God doesn’t even count. Or does he?
Prayer, at times: exhaustion, disappointment, faithfulness, commitment to hope, mystery.