by Bernadette Jasmin

Created on: July 25, 2008

Each morning I open my eyes to the new light of day, a new beginning. I ponder, what I will do today. Then I slide to my knees in contemplation and think to myself, prayer. The sweet chord resonates in my soul and I think, what will I talk to my Heavenly Father about today? I need to thank him first that is most important, then I can ask.

Some mornings, I silently close my eyes and am transported before my father's throne and I imagine that I kneel at his knee and hold his hand as I thank him. He has blessed me with my eyes to see beautiful colors. The green leaves that peek at my window. The vivid blue sky that calms my soul. I thank him for my ears that allow me to listen to the early morning conversation of the birds. I thank him for my nose that can sniff the sweet sent of lilacs and the wet brown earth.

Other mornings, the pains of an imperfect body resist bent knees. Sometimes laziness or apathy calls and makes it difficult to take time for the morning routine. There are also those days when business calls or a late alarm, or children or the demands of life want to take precedence. Those are the days when I have to force the knees down and pull the mind towards heaven to take time for those sacred few moments. Once I have done so, I never regret it. But it never seems to fail when the tempter is near, whispering and trying to drag me down it is so easy to give in.

Nevertheless,I find that the will is stronger then the flesh when the heart is willing. It is always worth it when I make the effort to pray. There are times when my mind gets distracted and I am lured away and have to come back to center.

Prayer takes effort. It is not a one time deal and you get rewarded. It is work. Why does it have to be so hard? Prayer is a growing process. I know that I need to grow in my relationship with my Heavenly Father and prayer is the means, the conduit to communication and reverence.

Prayer is spiritual food. As I reach deeply into my heart to bare my soul to my Father the heavens seem to reach a little closer. My heart fills with joy and something more, something unspeakable. As I do I feel like I can reach home, a place that I have a glimmer of. I also know where I belong and the quiet yearnings of my heart are filled.

A tender response is always close as I converse with him. It is like the sweet summer breeze on my skin, gentle, and kind. There are times that I struggle to reach just a little deeper into my soul and ask forgiveness for my wayward heart and I fall into deep repentance.

At times I read his words and the sure confirmation of his guidance is firm and sure. Other times a timely comfort is sent through others rendering service. But the answer is always there. I often grieve that although he is faithful and sure and answers my prayers sooner or later I am not always as consistent in calling home.

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