When I was in high school, my mentor Marcia gave me the book "Prayers From the Heart" by Richard Foster. In it is a compilation of prayers from several different authors, including Francis of Assisi, Charles Wesley, Mother Teresa, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, as well as prayers by Richard Foster himself. I have had this book right by my bed for the last 12 years. The pages are wearing down and the book opens automatically to specific prayers I tend to frequent.
One of the prayers has become my favorite. It was the first one that Marcia and I read together and it seems applicable on a daily basis. Here it is.
~a prayer to begin the day~
Jesus, I desire to start this day with you. And yet, my mind keeps flitting to so many things:
the projects I want to accomplish,
the people I want to talk to,
the people I wish I didn't have to talk to.
I wonder, are these things distractions to spiritual concentration or invitations to see God in the ordinary? I'm not sure. Jesus, I know that you are the Center who knows no distraction. So I offer up my mental fragmentation to you, O Lord my God.
May my scatteredness become your gatheredness.
As I am contemplating a thousand things, Jesus, may I somehow be contemplating you.
amen.
I desire to have a more intimate relationship with the Lord, through prayer and his word.
So, Kit, the amazing man that he is, created a prayer board for me. On it, I put prayers, verses and lyrics to worship songs that I would like to meditate on through out the day.
I had an idea in my mind, (which Kit loves to tease me about ALL the things that are going on in there) and Kit made it happen. I helped a little but needless to say, my prayer board has become my most favorite thing in our house.
We used birch and maple wood, tin (it's magnetic) ceiling tiles that I found at a store in Fullerton, a gazillion c-clamps, nail gun, table and miter saw, and some liquid nails and...
ta da!
Right now I have the lyrics to "praise is rising" on my board.
Thank you Marcia for giving me that prayer book!
You are loved...
