The Thread

In all my waking hours,
I feel the thread of You
holding me together.

I am nothing without that thread,
yet nothing even with it
in my own lowliness.

So I plead:
empty me out
until there is room
for all of You to dwell.

Let Your lovingkindness be upon me
in the midst of my simple day—

this thread,
so quietly humming,
so strong and never yielding,
that it will not let go of me.

And I chant:

Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.

Guardian Angel,
stand beside my right hand.
Lead me down the straight and narrow path,
the path of righteousness
for His name’s sake.

Be my light, Lord.
My ever-constant Rock,
the ground beneath my feet
when I cannot find my footing.

And now I feel the thread
resting in my hand—

what was unseen
now felt between my fingers,

holding and twisting
one prayer bead
to another,

one prayer bead
to another,

one breath
to another,

until it reaches the Cross.

I clasp it tight in my hand.
I kiss it.

And praise Your holy name
forever and ever,

here,
in the midst
of my simple day.

You are the thread
holding me together.

Thank you, Eli, for my prayer beads for my birthday. I love you.