Sunday, September 11th, 2016


My kind of prayer is, well, my kind of prayer. It fits me. I do several kinds.
I howl in pain. I beg for people I love. I collapse with grief and I use Mary to help find a parking place. Really.

And I include lots of ‘thanks’, mostly sincere, but some out of counting my blessings to fall asleep or out of guilt for forgetting how lucky I am. (Luck is a whole other topic in relation to prayer).  

When it isn’t a spontaneous prayer burp, I often sit and strain and wiggle to try to get to a prayer place. So I use devotions to open the portal. I may have to try quite a few but eventually somthing strikes me and in I go.

Want to know what it feels like when I get there?  Calm and warm and soothing and so very OK even when every darn thing is not. And sometimes there is a hint of guidance or direction. Not bad.  

Please read  for 9/11 thoughts


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