God, I know that I am supposed to pray without ceasing.
Prayer is like oxygen. Prayer like breathing. Thrusting all that I am and have and do upon your mercy. Over and over again.
Sometimes it looks more like a raging Psalm, and sometimes it is the endless search for how to pray today.
But God, I have asthma, like most of my family, and breathing is severely underrated.
Too often, I can’t catch my breath. Too often I am trying to hiss a prayer out between my teeth. Feeling like no oxygen is going in…making it hard to breathe or speak or pray.
Stress, might I add, doesn’t help.
And sleep is shaky at best. We joke that everyone has insomnia, and try not to be awkward with one another over our devices, all alone, on little sleep and little breath.
I’ve been angry, I’ve been sad. I’ve dealt with loneliness, depression and hopelessness.
And I keep trying to catch my breath to pray. I know I do not need to speak to pray God, but you understand what I mean.
Here I am. Praying the “I don’t know” prayer, surviving.
I love to pray until the Holy Spirit prays you. Meditating deep enough that your soul find equanimity and respite in prayer.
That’s not the kind of prayers that are going on these days. Its more gasps and sighs, gutterals and selahs. With shoulders hunched over computers, or a quick plea as we rush through the day, or the pondering that keep you awake at night.
Lord, hear my prayers, all of them. Connect the dotted lines of prayers in my life–so like my asthma, even when I struggle there is enough there.
And if I need an inhaler for praying, please provide it to me as soon as possible.
For I am weak and you are mighty.