All of Me?

Many of you know a few weeks ago, I spent the weekend with a group of Dominican nuns in Nashville. A retreat had been planned there for months and there happened to be a spot for me. One of the things I loved the most about those three days was the singing of several prayers throughout the day. Morning prayers, mid-day prayers, Vespers, and Compline all sung to the Glory of God. Even a broken soul like mine could pray through the songs and not have to speak.

I love to read. More often than not, I have at least two books on my person. This Christmas, we didn't leave until Christmas Eve to come home. Rushing through the house that morning before heading off to 6:00am Christmas Eve Mass, then to the office to meet him, then to the airport to go home, I realized I was without my books. I grabbed the first two volumes of words on my staircase (i'm completely out of bookcase room - both room on the bookcases and room for more bookcases). Sitting in the airport terminal waiting to fly home, and laughing with my heart's traveling companion about how in several more Christmas breaks we'd be that couple chasing children through the waiting area, I could not put my book down.

For my very structured friends, you'll hate this book. Don't even check Amazon for it. Trust me. But for those of you who, like me, are attracted to the mystical aspects of faith, go right now and order it.

sevensacredpauses: living mindfully throughout the hours of the day is perhaps one of the best books my heart has ever taken in. It walks you through the prayers said at the seven most holy times of the day. This practice is not new to Christendom and isn't unique to His faith. It's about putting yourself, seven times each day, in the Father's hands.

Sitting with those beautiful Dominican Sisters, listening to them sing the prayers of the hours, finding myself moving in rhythm with their hearts, I knew this was a practice that would keep me grounded through this trial of my soul. I came back to my apartment yesterday and dug through pile of things from my suitcase I never unpacked after Christmas, (I traveled twice after that, moved a boyfriend across country, oh and packed an entire office and left a job- I'm okay with leaving piles in my living room) and found the book.

Opening it to the prayers for twilight, I paused and asked the Lord to show me the shortcomings of my day. As is a continual prayer lately, I begged Him to heal my broken heart.

Give it to me. Give me your brokenness.

But God! There isn't just one part of me that's broken. There isn't just one piece of my heart to heal.

Place your wounds in the wounds of my son. They will heal you.

I believe you, I do. But I can't just put this in a box and give you the box. It's my hands that hurt because they remember holding his. It's my feet because they were going to walk with him forever. It's my nose and ears because they'll never again nussle against his chest on my front porch at the end of the night. And they've got nothing on my heart and my soul. IT'S NOT JUST ONE PART GOD, I'D HAVE TO GIVE YOU ALL OF ME. I'D HAVE TO HAND OVER MY WHOLE LIFE FOR YOU TO HEAL. I'D HAVE TO GIVE YOU ALL OF ME.



Oh. I get it.


You want all of me.

Not just to pray with you seven times a day, and not just to walk in your precepts, but you want all of me.

Tears falling down every part of my face and covering the book held now forcefully in my hands, I read the Psalm for twilight prayers: Sustain me as you have promised that I may live; disappoint me not in my hope. (Psalm 119:116)

Giving You everything that makes me, I cling to Your promise- disappoint me not in my hope.