I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly I needed to pray. But a place for this indiscernible prayer hollowed out my insides. I felt the atrophy as one feels weakened by a fever. I felt in need…a quaking in me to ask.
But ask what?
How could I, would I take the time to pinpoint the longing with a myriad of needs pressing in on me, pulling me, and spinning me with tornadic force?
Then I stepped outside and captured this photo…
And blue as the sky, it pierced me—what I needed to ask. All that had begun to dry up and brittle synched with clarity. A strengthening of my bones sprung from the asking.
Breathe life into me.
In the hurried.
“Mom, I can’t find my cleats” two minutes before practice. Breathe life into me.
In the stress.
Awake after hours of wrestling with sleep, declaring myself the loser and retreating downstairs for a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. Breathe life into me.
In the weakness.
I can’t go through this again. This loss. This turmoil of the familiar bleeding into this relationship. Remove the pain. Breathe life into me.
In all the change.
New job. Church. Close friends moving. House renovations. Writing decisions. Contact with loved ones. Breathe life into me.
In the clogged funnel of roles.
Work a little longer. Get child to orthodontist. Pump out another few thousand words. Lungs begging for a solid run. Book club. Bible. Dog threw up. Teacher appreciation day. Breathe life into me.
In all that I am.
Wounded. Saved. Wrecked. Amped. Sensitive. Creative. Passionate. Questioning. Feisty. Restless. Open. Vulnerable. Roaring. Wandering the endless maze of my synapses. Breathe life into me.
And all I’ll never be.
Perfect. Breathe life into me.
And looking up into the shock of this tree I woke up to it, to what I needed.
For life to be breathed into my soul.
Because moments pass quickly and days are swallowed whole in the blink of time. I ached for my life to have breath restored, surging in me, my spiritual lungs on fire again.
As I write this I still feel the whisper of his breath grazing my soul, filling the hollow place of asking, needing, wanting, lacking. And it is, indeed, good.
And life is revived. Even in the asking. In the humbling act of petitioning, he’s already exhaling. Giving and giving and giving.
Have you ever been blessed in the asking?
“God, the Master, told the dry bones, ‘Watch this: I’m bringing the breath of life to you and you’ll come to life. I’ll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You’ll come alive and you’ll realize that I am GOD!’” Message 37:4