June 15, 2022
“Give a Thousand Years to Hear 12 Seconds Of”: A Prayer
O Lord, I am sitting out here on our deck on a
sumptuous morning
soaking up some rays,
absorbing some vitamin D, and
listening,
listening
because of something I read,
a writer writing about
the beautiful, blessed music
that can be heard in each day,
ordinary sounds not ordinary at all;
sounds saying, somehow
we have made it to this day
when by all rights we shouldn’t have,
little miracles along the way, every day;
sounds saying, somehow
we have survived,
survived
deadly illness,
deadly foolishness;
deadly sin,
survived by grace;
sounds saying, somehow
we are alive still,
we have woken up again,
we have come out of the darkness
into the light of
another sumptuous morning;
and so,
I sit here
listening
to what that writer says
someone who has died
would give a thousand years,
if he had years to give,
to hear 12 seconds of,
such blessed music,
ordinary sounds in ordinary days not ordinary at all,
sounds usually
ignored,
not heard,
just noise;
but in fact,
a symphony of
miracles, healing, forgiveness,
reconciliation, redemption,
your symphony,
Lord,
your symphony of life.
But what an unexpected symphony, Lord, your symphony of life is.
Click, click, click,
a knife striking a cutting board
as it slices vegetables for a graduation party;
a jet high overhead,
a hedge trimmer trimming,
a blower blowing trimmings trimmed;
birds chirping, siren wailing,
a single shout shouted;
tree branches rustling in the breeze,
chimes softly chiming; telephone ringing,
answering machine answering, announcing,
the caller calling;
garage door opening,
a skateboard rattling along,
garage door closing;
friendly hello called out by neighbor walking below;
distant drone of I-285 traffic;
edger engine revving, dog barking, car door slamming;
man walking, talking on cell phone,
(Why so loud?);
beep, beep, beep of truck backing up somewhere;
plates clattering as put away in cabinet;
shoes clacking on brick sidewalk;
glasses clinking;
workmen speaking Spanish to one another, no idea
what saying, then
laughing,
understood that;
portable oxygen machine
humming, me
sniffing in, machine
puffing;
lid on metal toolbox in nearby pickup banged shut;
voices from TV
drifting outside,
muffled, indistinct;
a voice from the door
suggests that perhaps
had enough
vitamin D treatment;
and so with chair scraping,
I move into the shade and
listen
to more of the
blessed music,
your beautiful symphony,
Lord,
of life.
And yet maybe, O Lord, only someone who has died or
nearly died or
is dying
can understand
how such sounds can be
so beautiful and blessed,
because
maybe be only they
understand what it means
not to hear these ordinary ever again,
every day sounds
that say that
by some miracle we are
still here,
still breathing,
healed, forgiven, loved.
And so help us
to pay attention to each day,
to listen for the blessed music of a day,
to hear your beautiful symphony
of life every day
so that
we would
give thanks, rejoice, sing with hope
each and every day
no matter what.
O Lord, there seems to be no end is sight to the war in
the Ukraine, only
more evil, more atrocities, more death.
Move the nations
to do even more,
to give the Ukrainians
what they need to be victorious and free.
And we pray for
those we can easily forget
in the midst of our own troubles and preoccupations and busyness,
those who are battling disease or struggling with chronic illness,
those who are suffering and hurting,
those who are dying,
those who are grieving,
those are hungry or homeless
or don’t know which way to turn.
Be with them, heal them, comfort and console them,
nourish them, help them to find the way.
O Lord, who would have ever thought that the
click, click, click
of a knife striking
a cutting board,
or birds chirping,
or a blower blowing,
could make
such a beautiful symphony,
such blessed music;
move us
to give even a few minutes each day
to listen,
to listen to what
one day, sooner than we might think,
we would gladly give a thousand years
to hear
just
12 seconds of.
Amen.
