Be Gracious

I seek your face with blundering hands outstretched, blindly grasping at darkness and quick! quick! seizing nothingness that slips from my hands unharmed.

The air is thick and smothers my lungs. It is hard to breathe here.

Be gracious to me, my God.

Knees bent. My head pressed against the floor, yellow hair spread like holy halo across the ground.

You promise that your grace is sufficient for your children. Lord I claim that promise now.

Like a small child taking his first steps, I stumble, trip, fall heart-heavy onto the ground.

The child sees only the next few steps. He does not know that what lies ahead of him in life is uncertain. Oh blessed innocence.

Father, doubts pock-mark my faith, digging holes into my heavy head. Tears drip from those holes leaky faucet like. Flow down, lick the chin, drip off.

I’m here, Father. Alone with only my inhibitions to keep me company.

Your holy pages have been perused, flipped through, and pored over by tired eyes. Eyes that long for rest from doubt.

Be gracious to me Father.

Give me peace.