Summer Prayer

My Sweet Lord,

The rain in the Northwest has ended. Summer has arrived. Our days are once again filled with glorious sun. We need this. We need to be able to get out of our homes, to get outside, to breathe fresh air, and to see your magnificent creation. We need the rays of light to warm our skin and sink into our souls and give us hope.

Lord, I miss my old life. I miss the small things that once gave me comfort. I see now, in many ways, how they were false comforts. And I see that you have been refining me, showing me what is most important. Frivolous relationships have been stripped away, as have attachments to things that distracted me from seeing you more clearly.

But there is still good work to do: To change. To grow. To become more holy.

Thank you for the tender way you guide me, the way you build my resolve so that I may follow you boldly, and for the way I am starting to sense you closer.

Will we look back at this time with nostalgia? Will we be reminded of the time we learned to be our true selves, the ones you created us to be? Will we remember this was the beginning of something beautiful or sacred?

Sometimes I feel like David, surrounded by enemies. He cried out to you, “Let those who seek my life be ashamed and humiliated.” (Psalm 70:2) I know this might sound silly, because my “enemies” are social media feeds and nighttime news. It’s a psychological or a spiritual warfare. But David taught me to keep my eyes on you and not to be distracted by my enemies.

You are my salvation. My hope. My light. I was created simply for you to love me. And I, in turn, get to choose to love you back. If this is all I ever do, it will be enough. This is grace.

So I will rejoice in you. I will praise you for your daily mercies. Summer sunshine. Abundant gardens. Time with family. Bird watching. Children giggling. Pink lemonade.

There is so much to rejoice in, and even if I did not praise you, all of creation would sing your praise. The mountains would break into song, and the trees would clap their hands. Sometimes I think if I am quiet enough, attentive enough, if my heart is open, I hear this.

The whole world shouts “Hosanna!”