Category: Prayers from the Island

Enjoy these prayers of reflection and thanksgiving inspired by life on St. George Island.

After the StormAfter the Storm

 Today we continue to recover from the storm, picking up bits of plastic and insulation blown into our yard from the construction project next door, trying to prop up plants leveled, sweeping up pine needles and pine cones brought down by the wind.  Such a mess storms bring!  I think of other types of storms—broken relationships, marriages, churches, the mess they leave behind when they break apart.  Sometimes the clean-up is monumental, and things can never be as they once were.  Please help me, Lord, to restore a storm-tossed world into your sense of order and beauty.  Through the Holy Spirit may I be an agent of healing and good rather than a storm of destruction.  Help me to bandage the brokenness around me. Amen.

 

 

 

The Gift of ColorThe Gift of Color

 The redbud trees are in bloom on the mainland!  I tell myself I can see them across the bay, though I know that’s not really possible.  I want to see them, and so I imagine I can.  They provide a splash of spring color that my eyes soak up, as if they were pink lemonade foam.  I think, as I look at the sky, the ocean, and the sand, of the gift of colors.  Perhaps those who minister in the church often wear black with touches of white because it’s thought bright colors interfere with our ability to focus; they distract us with their splashes of frivolous color.  But for me, the gift of colors is crucial. Colors remind me that our God is a God of beauty who wants us to see and appreciate the world He’s given us.  Colors are a remnant of Eden, a world made perfect and wholly good.  I thank you, God, for colors and for the delight they bring into our everyday lives. Amen.

 

 

 

Patiently WaitingPatiently Waiting

  I watched a sandpiper this morning as he raced a ghost crab to its hole.  Patiently, patiently, he stood beside the hole long after the crab disappeared, not moving his body, absolutely still.  He waited for a long time, staring quietly at the vacant hole.  I stood and watched, awed by the sandpiper’s suspension of movement.  When the crab suddenly reappeared, certain the bird had vanished, he was quickly gobbled up.  I think of my own impatience, how often I give God my timetables, my schedules, my deadlines and ask Him to move on my terms.  I need, like that sandpiper, to learn patience.  Please, God, may I wait at your side, knowing that your timetable is better than mine.  Please teach me to be patient; forgive me my foolish demands. Let me be still and know that you are God. Amen.

Dolphins Work Together to Hunt

SynchronizedSynchronized

Dolphins Work Together to Hunt Today I watched the dolphins corner a school of fish, leaping in small circles and capturing their prey.  Sea birds circled above them, swooping down for fish that came too close to the surface, enjoying the ‘seconds’  from the dolphins’ hunt.  They seemed to cooperate in a synchronized dance, working together in harmony as if they were one body.  How beautiful it is when Christians work together in the same way, cooperating in the tasks they’ve assumed, deferring to one another, celebrating their united aims.  I regret sometimes this unity seems far away.  Forgive us, Father, when we cause strife and disharmony in your church; help us to work together with one another in Christian love and forgiveness.  May we be part of the Dance of Love you’ve designed for us. Amen.

 

Longer DaysLonger Days

The days are growing longer now, as the sun continues to stay overhead later into the evening and waken earlier each morning.  When I rise from bed, I can already see the blush of dawn and the sky is starting to lighten.  I could consult the newspaper and identify the exact difference each day’s length will be, but I prefer to discover the additional light myself, through my own experience.  The numbers may predict the hours of light, but it is God who causes the sun to shine, the moon to light the night, and the world to move at his ordering.  I thank you, Lord, for the daylight hours of work and play and for the night of peace and rest.  You have given us a world of order and stability whose regularity is a sign of your love, your creation, your power, and your glory. Amen.

Temptation’s TugTemptation’s Tug

 When I walk close to the water’s edge, I can feel the tidal pull of the ocean.  It seems to draw me closer with an invisible hand, summoning me somehow.  What is it, I wonder, that lures me so to the water, making me feel as if I might stumble into its foam when the waves retreat?  It’s nothing I can see, but I recognize it as a force that tugs at me.  I assume what I feel is the tide’s force, but I can’t be certain.  Sin is like that too; it exerts on me a tempting pull, drawing me in with invisible cords.  I can sometimes feel the tug at my spirit, urging me “ just this once” or “you’re too tired to pray tonight,”  “too tired to read the Bible, to make amends with someone you’ve hurt—too tired”.  Steady me, I pray Lord.  Keep your hand in mine and pull me from the water’s edge when I feel myself being drawn in.  Hold me fast, I pray. Amen.

Bird SongsBird Songs

  I woke early this morning, listening to the birds outside my window.  They perch on high pine branches or in the brushy low branches of shrubs, calling to one another.  Their eagerness to mate creates a morning song as lovely as those in the Psalms.  Once I had a houseguest who told me she had to shut her bedroom window, “Those birds kept screeching!” she said. What I heard as a song, she heard as noise.  I wonder what others hear when I speak?  Do they hear music in my voice or only noise?  Please, Lord, may I speak of your love with the voice of a nightingale so others may learn of the good news; may my actions not be heard as unpleasant screeching that contradict my love for you. Amen.

Composting is good for my garden and the planet

ReuseReuse

Composting is good for my garden and the planet  My husband and I carefully compost all of our vegetable scraps, rarely using the garbage disposal or putting extra burden on our septic tank.  Before we moved to the island, I never composted, simply flushing waste matter down the drain for the garbage disposal.  Here there is no soil, only sand.  The compost we generate is rich in the nutrients my plants and garden require.  What an efficient world you’ve created for us, dear Lord!  What we waste is not really wasted, but now used to help produce what we need.  I thank you for the bounty of this earth and for the bounty that bounty produces, again and again.  Surely your love for us is manifested even in this simple, earthy gift. Amen.

The Perfect GiftThe Perfect Gift

  A friend is having a birthday soon, someone dear from my childhood.  I chose a shell for her, carefully placing it in a box as a gift.  The shell is perfect, an empty home from a creature, a home so beautiful no human could create it.  What else can I give her?  She has jewelry and jars of jam, books still unread and perfume never yet sprayed.  She owns tee shirts and cute plaques, and souvenirs from the island.  I shall give her this shell, chosen from among the millions on the beach because of its beauty and strength, its delicacy and purity.  And with it I shall send this prayer, “Thank you, Dear God, for this good woman who has been my dear friend for life.  Keep her and all her family safe and may she know, like this shell, she is wholly unique and loved—one among millions and millions.” Amen.

St George Island at Night

Deep in the NightDeep in the Night

St George Island at Night Last night a barge passed by my house, though it was difficult to see, so deep was the darkness.  The sound of its engine cut into my sleep, and I could almost feel the throbbing vibrations of the tug’s powerful engine.  I stared into the night and finally spotted the outline moving slowly across the horizon, lights distinguishing shape.  While I surrender to sleep, there is a ‘night world’ which moves in the darkness around me on land and sea.  I wonder at its rhythms and patterns, so foreign to me.  Perhaps someone on the ship watches the shoreline, seeing dim outlines of houses, scattered lights, silhouetted tree shapes.  I ask you, God, to be with those who watch in the darkness, that their way be guided and made safe.  I entrust them, those unknown watchers, into your hands.  May they be alertly awake while I sleep. Amen.