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
