Prayer begins in us the restoration of the divine image, in all its hiddenness and wonder. It brings us closer to the "region of likeness" and every prayer is an act of letting the old self go. It involves "dying". The grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies. Dead, it is destined to bear much fruit.
This morning a splendid dawn passed over our house on its way to Kansas. This morning Kansas rolled out of its sleep into a sunlight grandly announced, proclaimed throughout heaven, one more of the very finite number of days that this old prairie has been called Kansas, or Iowa. But it has all been one day, that first day. Light is constant, we just turn over in it. So every day is in fact the selfsame evening and morning.
When things are taking their ordinary course, it is hard to remember what matters. There are so many things you would never think to tell anyone. And I believe they may be the things that mean most to you...
