I went to church.
I walked on the beach
And played with Percy.
I answered the phone
And paid the bills
I did the laundry.
I spoke her name
A hundred times.
I knelt in the dark
And said some holy words.
I went downstairs,
I watered the flowers.
I fed Percy.
What I Said at Her Service
When we pray to love God perfectly,
Surely we do not mean only.
(Lord, see how well I have done.)
With just a little bit of luck, and grace, overseen by our glancing intentions, we may discover that our imperfect lives are a prayer to God. For out of the love lost and relationships broken is the lived testament to a world that paradoxically broke our hearts so that we might love more. It is our very longing that is our healing. And so Mary goes through her days and prays and plays. A perfect life riddled with pain, torn asunder so that love expands ever more giving ever more space for her to commit her life to pen and paper, feeding us.
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