Skimming Stars

skimming stars

When I pray, You come to me in the open fields.

The camera in my mind pans past the Dust Bowl barns
and the dirt roads hemmed with wildflowers.
It is in the rare beauty of expanse that I see You.
When the light is pale-blue-almost-white,
that color I’ve seen only in my head
and in movies about pioneers.
When the air hangs heavy over the plain,
hinting at a promise of evening dew.
When I pray,
I find myself here.
It is the only time I’ve found myself here.
Like You are welcoming me to a country
meant only for me.

When I pray, I am still.
It is the world that moves around me,
the axis not out of importance but out of stilling awe.
And in Your infinite grace You extend the moments
and calm my mind
and bring me closer.
So I know, now,
why we fly over the expanse between our mountains:
There is too much in the middle.
It is why You have me pray there.
Pray in the place where the too-much can be contained.
Pray in the place where my too-much can’t be too much.

Un-stick my feet.
Let me bend the axis.

I will run through the prairies after You,
flinging aside the tall grass,
searching but not because You are hidden.
Seeking the place where my failure
meets Your sufficiency
and my fear collides with rest.

Take me out into the open once more,
Great Heart.
Show me how to be small.

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