You, neighbor God, when I disturb with heavy raps your quiet during a lonely night, it is because I rarely hear You breathe, though know: You're in your room alone. And while in need, there's no one there to bring your groping hand a drink. But I am listening. Just give me a sign. I am close by.
Prayer gives the silence, which is the very clear song that is simple, full of devotion, full of itself, in nature, in everyone. The notes of the silence lift every bird and are perfect for every heart, one note at a time.
To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul;
O heart within my heart,
in you I place my trust.
Let me not feel unworthy;
let not fear rule over me.
Yes! let all who open their hearts
savor You and bless the earth!
In the middle of a healing conference on the Rosebud Indian Reservation, a young Native American died of acute alcoholism. Unfortunately, it is not an unusual occurrence on Indian reservations to die of alcoholism. I was working with Matt and Dennis Linn who were in training on the reservation. We were invited to the wake that was to be held later that evening. The Linns told me what to do when we got to the tribal hall.
"When we go into the tribal hall tonight, the man will be in a casket in the front of the room with all of his grieving family around him, and nobody will be talking. The Indian people will be there. Go in, don't say a word, take the hand of each of the grieving relatives, shake it once, and sit down with the rest of the people who are there."
The deep silence of creation is Spirit's voice directing the people as they walk ... Their steps are firm, for Spirit guides the moccasins to tread where it is safe.
