How often do we find ourselves pushing moments into one another, rushing, speeding, striving to get to the next, better, important moment later on? How often do we pause and try to describe a moment as it happens, try to feel it, drink it in and savor it, like one savors a bite of something delicious?
A writer's job is to describe, to put the reader into the moment, so the reader can truly feel and try to experience what the writer is attempting to convey. I suppose I would consider myself as a writer, but one that is still learning the craft. But I will try.
Do you ever have a moment that seems to hold significance, but you're not sure why? You try to understand it, to feel it, and to describe it so you can remember it forever, but it eludes the words you try to use. It seems you are on the edge of inspiration, of understanding something truly profound, but it sits on the tip of your brain, on the edge of description.
I was driving, and I was blown away by a feeling I still can't quite grasp. I can describe the fireflies I saw across the road, appearing like tiny sparks of fire, extinguished in moments. I could describe the deep scent of the earth that has just been tilled and wind mixing together through my window, a promise of rain in the air. My words can try to paint a picture of the last rays of a summer sunset, the purple and pink mixing in with the deep navy that creeps in to slowly envelop all other colors. The feel of the wind moving my hair about, its sound competing with the song on the radio.
Yet I can't describe the wistful feeling that all of these things brought me, the wildness that seemed to well up in me as I smelled the earth and wind, or the bittersweet feeling I got as the sun set on another day. I can't truly describe what happened, or how I felt, and why it drove me to cry out to God.
But I will try.
For these moments must be savored; described with our inexperienced writings and our insufficient words.
Because if we ignore them, these moments will be lost, and we will miss the brief communion with God that they bring.
Hanna Elizabeth
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Monday, June 24, 2019
Monday, December 26, 2016
Insects buzzed around me as I sat in the tall grass, drinking in the beauty of the sunset.
Beams of light spewed forth from the sun as it sank, and shot forth onto the mounting thunderheads in the north east.
The sticky heat had been oppressive all day, and the living ached for the coolness of the breeze.
Yet still the sun sank, and the sky grew more vibrant as the clouds turned from pink to purple, against the stark blue and orange hue of the sky.
A tree which had given up its will to live sat creaking in the wind, lamenting its fate, as a large crow alighted on it.
As the sun's beams continued trying to pierce the growing mountains of clouds in the north east, the thunderheads stubbornly refused to yield their bleach white color.
As I continued to watch the battle between sun and clouds, even as the sun began to retreat, a third, darker element gradually came into view.
Thin fingers of suave grey from the south began reaching in the sun's direction
as flashes of light told me the bigger story may lay behind me.
The fingers of darkness continued to reach out to cover the light, and the flashes of light to my back became faster.
The puffs of cool breeze which had been absent all day began to replace the heat, and suddenly, every insect was gone.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
This thought enveloped me as I watched the impending storm creep across the sky.
This is going to be a big one I thought, as the clouds continued to darken and spread.
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Its insistence made me pause. Why did I so often become afraid of the darkening clouds, seeming to block each light beam in its path? Even if it looks bleak, why should I not trust?
The rumble of thunder in the black sky behind me gave me a sliver of fear.
The thunder and dark clouds seem so frightening in our own lives, but what happens after each thunderstorm?
The Sun comes out.
Jesus, please do not let me forget your constant presence, even when the dark clouds build behind me.
Hanna Elizabeth
Beams of light spewed forth from the sun as it sank, and shot forth onto the mounting thunderheads in the north east.
The sticky heat had been oppressive all day, and the living ached for the coolness of the breeze.
Yet still the sun sank, and the sky grew more vibrant as the clouds turned from pink to purple, against the stark blue and orange hue of the sky.
A tree which had given up its will to live sat creaking in the wind, lamenting its fate, as a large crow alighted on it.
As the sun's beams continued trying to pierce the growing mountains of clouds in the north east, the thunderheads stubbornly refused to yield their bleach white color.
As I continued to watch the battle between sun and clouds, even as the sun began to retreat, a third, darker element gradually came into view.
Thin fingers of suave grey from the south began reaching in the sun's direction
as flashes of light told me the bigger story may lay behind me.
The fingers of darkness continued to reach out to cover the light, and the flashes of light to my back became faster.
The puffs of cool breeze which had been absent all day began to replace the heat, and suddenly, every insect was gone.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
This thought enveloped me as I watched the impending storm creep across the sky.
This is going to be a big one I thought, as the clouds continued to darken and spread.
The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Its insistence made me pause. Why did I so often become afraid of the darkening clouds, seeming to block each light beam in its path? Even if it looks bleak, why should I not trust?
The rumble of thunder in the black sky behind me gave me a sliver of fear.
The thunder and dark clouds seem so frightening in our own lives, but what happens after each thunderstorm?
The Sun comes out.
Jesus, please do not let me forget your constant presence, even when the dark clouds build behind me.
Hanna Elizabeth
Thursday, May 19, 2016
His Presence on the Prairie
Have you ever had an ache for time with the Lord?
An itch to go somewhere peaceful, completely alone, and bask in his presence?
It is a curious, driving feeling, something that can't be explained unless you've felt it.
Some go to chapels, a special place at home, in their cars.
My favorite place is on the prairie, under the stars.
The twinkling clusters of homes, nestled into the prairie swells. The endless sea of grasses, stretching for miles, rolling along uninhibited by more than a few trees planted in windbreaks.
My favorite part are the lights. Not from the cities, for we have only a few, but the ones overhead.
The red twinkle of mars,
The big dipper,
Orion's belt,
and the benevolent, cool face of the moon, illuminating the dirt roads and peaceful fields.
The trill of crickets calling to find a mate,
the rattle of cicadas doing the same,
the rustle of some ground dwelling creature passing through,
even the occasional coyote band,
The prairie is never silent.
And who can forget the wind? Always the wind.
With no trees to slow it down, nothing hinders its journey through the prairies. Sometimes fierce and wild, biting our faces, roaring through with a blizzard or a rainstorm as its companions.
Other times, rarer times, it is soft, kind, pleasing your ears with gentle rustlings as it moves through the dry grasses, caressing your skin as it swirls around you.
Although some complain that it never stops, we miss it when the grasses are still.
There has always been a touch of mystery to the wind. Gentle, Angry, Howling, Soft, the wind is never quite tame or predictable.
"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." John 3:8
The wind reminds me of the Holy Spirit in some ways.
Always present, softly nudging our consciences in the right direction, as we sometimes begrudgingly listen. Occasionally It overwhelms us with its power.
And sometimes, It is silent.
And when It is silent, we miss It. Our hearts seem still.
Sometimes we panic, trying everything to get It to come back, or sink into despair, thinking that we'll never hear it again.
But always, always, in the right time, It returns, a still small voice. guiding us, leading us to communion with Him.
The prairie is where I feel closest to the Lord...My own personal chapel.
I like to imagine God walking through the grasses, like He did in the Garden of Eden. Walking beside me, or simply sitting with me as I bask in His creation, His Joyous presence.
I think the prairie, is best enjoyed on a day where you can stand, face to the gentle wind, and let Him soak into your heart.
The presence of God is the most overwhelmingly beautiful thing one can ever experience.
Seek His presence, wherever you are.
He will not disappoint.
Hanna Elizabeth
An itch to go somewhere peaceful, completely alone, and bask in his presence?
It is a curious, driving feeling, something that can't be explained unless you've felt it.
Some go to chapels, a special place at home, in their cars.
My favorite place is on the prairie, under the stars.
The twinkling clusters of homes, nestled into the prairie swells. The endless sea of grasses, stretching for miles, rolling along uninhibited by more than a few trees planted in windbreaks.
My favorite part are the lights. Not from the cities, for we have only a few, but the ones overhead.
The red twinkle of mars,
The big dipper,
Orion's belt,
and the benevolent, cool face of the moon, illuminating the dirt roads and peaceful fields.
The trill of crickets calling to find a mate,
the rattle of cicadas doing the same,
the rustle of some ground dwelling creature passing through,
even the occasional coyote band,
The prairie is never silent.
And who can forget the wind? Always the wind.
With no trees to slow it down, nothing hinders its journey through the prairies. Sometimes fierce and wild, biting our faces, roaring through with a blizzard or a rainstorm as its companions.
Other times, rarer times, it is soft, kind, pleasing your ears with gentle rustlings as it moves through the dry grasses, caressing your skin as it swirls around you.
Although some complain that it never stops, we miss it when the grasses are still.
There has always been a touch of mystery to the wind. Gentle, Angry, Howling, Soft, the wind is never quite tame or predictable.
"The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit." John 3:8
The wind reminds me of the Holy Spirit in some ways.
Always present, softly nudging our consciences in the right direction, as we sometimes begrudgingly listen. Occasionally It overwhelms us with its power.
And sometimes, It is silent.
And when It is silent, we miss It. Our hearts seem still.
Sometimes we panic, trying everything to get It to come back, or sink into despair, thinking that we'll never hear it again.
But always, always, in the right time, It returns, a still small voice. guiding us, leading us to communion with Him.
The prairie is where I feel closest to the Lord...My own personal chapel.
I like to imagine God walking through the grasses, like He did in the Garden of Eden. Walking beside me, or simply sitting with me as I bask in His creation, His Joyous presence.
I think the prairie, is best enjoyed on a day where you can stand, face to the gentle wind, and let Him soak into your heart.
The presence of God is the most overwhelmingly beautiful thing one can ever experience.
Seek His presence, wherever you are.
He will not disappoint.
Hanna Elizabeth
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Prayer Beads for a Protestant
"Wait, are you going to pray the Rosary on that thing?"
No, I don't pray the Rosary, I'm Protestant.
"So if you're not Catholic, why would you use beads to pray?"
Disclaimer: this conversation didn't actually happen. This is more of a projection of how I would think it would play out if it did ever come up.
And since I have had a discussion recently about prayer, I decided I may as well explain this part of my prayer routine to the world...or at least to the four people who may read this blog.
But first, some background (because who doesn't love a good backstory, am I right?)
I have always been curious about Rosaries, and praying with them. Several of my good friends are Catholic, and I can't count the number of rosaries I've seen in cars, on nightstands, in purses, and everywhere else in their possession. Some are ornate and made of beautiful beads, while others are made of simple string, knotted together.
To a freestyle praying Protestant, the idea of praying rote prayers, and even with a physical object seemed so very mysterious and interesting, yet rather strange as well. I mean, we really only pray the Lord's prayer, and creed.
Then one day, I stumbled upon a link to a blog on Facebook, for these things called prayer beads, that one of my protestant friends had posted about. The writer had described the use of prayer beads so beautifully, discussing how she uses them to pray for people, situations, even things in her own life.
But, you might argue, "Protestants can't use something so very Catholic...right? I mean, they use it to ask for Mary's intercession. That is definitely something Protestants won't do," and you'd be right, but rote prayers, rejections of Catholic traditions, and Catholics vs. Protestants will have to wait for another day.
Yet who's to say that Protestants can't use prayer beads for a different type of prayer?
Now, of course, these are simply a tool used to help me with prayer. You don't have to use beads to be able to pray "properly". I don't use them every night, and certainly not every time I pray.
I used the beads from my Mom's old and broken Rosary (she grew up Catholic) and other beads and a cross I had at home to make my own. I like it, but it's nothing too special.
So here are 5 thoughts on why I use prayer beads.
1. They help me to focus.
To easily, I begin to pray for those around me, or for certain problems, and within 5 minutes, my mind wanders to another dimension in which I'm married to Chris Evans and have a house with a porch. When I pray with my beads, I am able to focus, because each bead is a prayer for a different person or group, and I don't move on to the next bead until I finish my thoughts.
2. They help me organize my prayers.
For me, each section of my beads is a different group. One for my family, one for friends, another for the country, my church, missions, etc. As I pray through each section, usually each person getting a bead, I thank the Lord for each of those things, before moving into praying for that group. I have at least nine individual prayers for each group, and that way, I don't usually forget a group I'm praying for, or forget to thank God for that group. My mind is more organized, and it helps to actively think about who and what I'm praying for.
3. They give my hands something to do.
As I said before, I am a tactile person. I play with my rings, my bracelets, my sleeves, and everything else that's near me when I'm thinking or listening. When I pray with my beads, they give me something to do with my hands, and to fiddle with, so I am able to concentrate.
4. They give me prayer stamina.
Part of my problem here is that I tend to lay in bed when I pray. After about five minutes, my mind wanders, and I drop off to sleep. The combination of kneeling while I pray, and using the beads, helps me to keep on track, and to pray for those on my list, which makes for a longer time in communication with the Lord.
5. Finally, they help remind me of what is important, and how I should be thankful.
As I pray for my friends, my family members, and other issues in my own life, I am reminded of all of the blessings and gifts that the Lord has given me, and how he has blessed me. The fact that I can use nine beads to pray for my family members makes me thankful I have such a big family. The fact that I pray for my country, or for my church family, or anyone else brings to mind the fact that they are in my life, and I am blessed to have them.
When we spend time in prayer, we are spending time with God, the creator of the universe. He's not only willing, but loves to hear us speak to him, and to converse with us in a thousand different ways. It's truly incredible to think that when I pray, the One who makes the Earth spin, and calls the stars by name listens to my little voice. His amazing Grace envelops me, and helps me to know that I am His.
That is a comforting thought.
Hanna Elizabeth
No, I don't pray the Rosary, I'm Protestant.
"So if you're not Catholic, why would you use beads to pray?"
Disclaimer: this conversation didn't actually happen. This is more of a projection of how I would think it would play out if it did ever come up.
And since I have had a discussion recently about prayer, I decided I may as well explain this part of my prayer routine to the world...or at least to the four people who may read this blog.
But first, some background (because who doesn't love a good backstory, am I right?)
I have always been curious about Rosaries, and praying with them. Several of my good friends are Catholic, and I can't count the number of rosaries I've seen in cars, on nightstands, in purses, and everywhere else in their possession. Some are ornate and made of beautiful beads, while others are made of simple string, knotted together.
To a freestyle praying Protestant, the idea of praying rote prayers, and even with a physical object seemed so very mysterious and interesting, yet rather strange as well. I mean, we really only pray the Lord's prayer, and creed.
Then one day, I stumbled upon a link to a blog on Facebook, for these things called prayer beads, that one of my protestant friends had posted about. The writer had described the use of prayer beads so beautifully, discussing how she uses them to pray for people, situations, even things in her own life.
I am a very tactile person, so the idea of having something physical to pray with, to keep me on track was an attractive idea.
Yet who's to say that Protestants can't use prayer beads for a different type of prayer?
Now, of course, these are simply a tool used to help me with prayer. You don't have to use beads to be able to pray "properly". I don't use them every night, and certainly not every time I pray.
I used the beads from my Mom's old and broken Rosary (she grew up Catholic) and other beads and a cross I had at home to make my own. I like it, but it's nothing too special.
1. They help me to focus.
To easily, I begin to pray for those around me, or for certain problems, and within 5 minutes, my mind wanders to another dimension in which I'm married to Chris Evans and have a house with a porch. When I pray with my beads, I am able to focus, because each bead is a prayer for a different person or group, and I don't move on to the next bead until I finish my thoughts.
2. They help me organize my prayers.
For me, each section of my beads is a different group. One for my family, one for friends, another for the country, my church, missions, etc. As I pray through each section, usually each person getting a bead, I thank the Lord for each of those things, before moving into praying for that group. I have at least nine individual prayers for each group, and that way, I don't usually forget a group I'm praying for, or forget to thank God for that group. My mind is more organized, and it helps to actively think about who and what I'm praying for.
3. They give my hands something to do.
As I said before, I am a tactile person. I play with my rings, my bracelets, my sleeves, and everything else that's near me when I'm thinking or listening. When I pray with my beads, they give me something to do with my hands, and to fiddle with, so I am able to concentrate.
4. They give me prayer stamina.
Part of my problem here is that I tend to lay in bed when I pray. After about five minutes, my mind wanders, and I drop off to sleep. The combination of kneeling while I pray, and using the beads, helps me to keep on track, and to pray for those on my list, which makes for a longer time in communication with the Lord.
5. Finally, they help remind me of what is important, and how I should be thankful.
As I pray for my friends, my family members, and other issues in my own life, I am reminded of all of the blessings and gifts that the Lord has given me, and how he has blessed me. The fact that I can use nine beads to pray for my family members makes me thankful I have such a big family. The fact that I pray for my country, or for my church family, or anyone else brings to mind the fact that they are in my life, and I am blessed to have them.
When we spend time in prayer, we are spending time with God, the creator of the universe. He's not only willing, but loves to hear us speak to him, and to converse with us in a thousand different ways. It's truly incredible to think that when I pray, the One who makes the Earth spin, and calls the stars by name listens to my little voice. His amazing Grace envelops me, and helps me to know that I am His.
That is a comforting thought.
Hanna Elizabeth
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