I Am Entitled

"...to be afraid of oneself is the last horror..."  C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

I am entitled...
...to live unsettled and ever striving;
...to lose myself as a side-kick in other people's story, to show how serious I am about Your demands for servanthood;
...to never be at peace where I am, because there is always a better place where You could take me;
...to live a life praiseworthy, because when others praise me I can say demurely, "Not me, His is the glory." Never seeing that I am covet-beckoning all the more;
...to punish myself before You get to it, because Your punishment might not be severe enough.

I am entitled...
...to have the concept fail.
...to have the convictions falter.
...and then...

I am entitled...
...to find the treasure in the darkness
as the sun sets to a moonless night;
...to cling in the cleft on the cold barren mountain.

But most of all and in the end, I am entitled
...to remember what it is to be the child of a Father
who smiles.

What Do You Call Prayer

I can't define prayer but with a story.

I took a walk today, and as I walked along my favorite trail I passed a man who walked the opposite direction.  Bald, in a grey hoodie and wearing sunglasses, he traveled with a walking stick in hand.  We smiled and nodded to each other, and I walked on around the circle.
About a mile around the loop, in a broad open place, I came upon him again.
He smiled, "We meet again."
I smiled, "That happens when you walk a circular trail." I took one headphone bud from my ear.  The music still played faintly in my other ear.
"Is this trail about 3 miles?" he asked.
"I believe the last mile marker says 1.7 miles, so you could make it a little more than 3 miles if you do the circle twice, " I answered.
"I usually walk the other trail, but this time I decided to do this one," he explained.
I raised my eyebrows, "There's another trail?"
He pointed.  "On the other side of the parking lot there is one."
I smiled again.  "I might try that one next time.  I could use some new scenery!"
He smiled, again, "Exactly."  Then, turning and reaching out with his walking stick, he said, "God bless."
I put my headphone back to my ear.  "Thanks!" I said.

My eyes pricked with tears as a new song began to sound in my ears.  How simply he gave that final salutation, and to a stranger after just a smidgen of conversation.  Then I began to wonder whether I'd met a man at all, wondered if instead I'd entertained an angel, as the saying goes. And a little thrill went through my soul as I replayed our exchange from a more transcendent perspective, for the nudge from God told me that even if I really had met a man, I had nevertheless met an angel.
And right then, it was all prayer.

So prayer...
it is a listening.
A watching.
A knowing things differently.
A seeing that all in this life is but a sort of shadow, and yet understanding the beautiful mystery:
something makes that shadow.

And finally, it is a responding.
The next time I visit that park to take a walk,
I'll be trying the other trail.