Do we all know how to pray? Do I know how to pray if I want to?
Long ago in childhood in sweet soft faith I could pray easily to God to bless my family then hop into bed. A faith that I lost in early adolescence. Once that kind of faith is lost I don’t think we can get it back.
Yet this morning I find myself wanting to say a simple prayer. Perhaps just to the sky, which is softly striated green and grey with dawn. Perhaps to the birds that are bright with trilling, chattering arcs and falls of song. Ok then, I will pray to nature in the way of my women.
Take my Uncle Jeff softly back to yourself. Once he was a white-haired boy-child with all the sparky attitude of a younger son loved hard and ready by his big brothers, loved by his parents. You were his parent too, and now he has died and you may bring him home to you. His body to blaze briefly like a star, his ash to fall and mingle with earth and water. He is yours again, an elemental and beautiful thing, atoms borne aloft, ready to become his star again.
I don’t know how to pray, but I bless him into rest, away from pain. I bless him with love. I knew his story not nearly enough, but I always felt his wonder and love at the family and children around him, his pride to be part of it all.Great mother and father, take this loving man and enfold him into love. Blessed be.