If worry were a string,
I’d be tied up.
If worry were my food.
I’d always eat, and never be filled.
If worry were my companion;
I’d be haunted til the end of my days.
But instead worry is my prayer–
allowing me to shape in sighs
and words and silence
all the things that tense my neck and shoulders
and fidget my fingers
and make me lose my keys and phone (again).
And because worry becomes my prayer–
you take it like a gift,
and don’t let it tie me up, or become my food, or my companion.
Instead you tame it, and teach me to live with it, and remind me that it is just one piece of life.
And that there are other things like kittens and clouds
and children blowing bubbles.
And sunshine, and raindrops to cool the summer days.
And you teach me to cry tears of relief,
and to call a friend,
and to turn the worry into prayer,
as many times as I need to.
So here’s a worrisome prayer–wrap it up for me Jesus,
and spin it with the Holy Spirit, so it loosens up around my soul I pray.
And be with me while I pray it please, God.
So I might breathe a little easier, I pray.
Feel free to use/adapt/share with credit to Pastor Katy Stenta