Prayer for Session

I gave the closing prayer for Session on Wednesday evening, and it went like this:

More than New Years, it is the anticipation of September that has me inhaling the sweet smell of a freshly sharpened No. 2 pencil and considering all the plans I have for my one wild and precious life.

I will learn to dance on pointe, nevermind that I’ve taken a whopping six weeks of beginning ballet and do not know the difference between a jete and a degage. I will win a Newberry, nevermind that I write Creative Nonfiction and the book I was supposed to have written years ago is in triage with a pulse so still it might be time to pull the plug.

Nevertheless, September is on its way, and these days I live a twisted version of Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for myself.

Remind us to remember the asymmetry of trees – that it is in growing off balance and unevenly that makes them strong.

Remind us of the gruesome work caterpillars must go through when they transform, having no idea what it is they’ll become; that they’ll emerge with the ability to fly.

Remind us of the cicada, who molts, leaving its paper-like skin on the fence, on our front doors, on our windshields, holding perfectly the shape of what was, while the body has flown somewhere else.

Remind us that it was the raven – the scavenger – that went before the dove, searching for peace.

 We are all very important people living in a very important town, but make us scavengers for peace when the waters are too dangerous and too deep for any of us. Keep us willing to fly. Make us believe you are with us in our transformation, no matter how gruesome it may be. Let us cling to the belief that we are wonderfully and fearfully made – no matter how far away we go, the shape of who we are is held safely in Your hands.