2. The Prayer-Before-The-Prayer of a Relief Society President

 

Dear God,

When that sparrow fell,

you know the one,

why didn’t I notice? 

I’d like to think I was

simmering soup for the neighbor in need,

or laboring in the field of unfolded laundry,

or, at the very least,

distracted by fluttering light on autumn leaves.

But you,

and I,

know 

that it is more likely

I was pouring myself a Coke in the garage. 

 

You give me now, this little flock

and ask me to watch.

They are so busy,

and so small,

and so 

many,

and dear.

And here I am,

unable to see them all at once.

My arms flail trying to find them.

 

I take these flapping arms

and draw them in,

tuck them tightly under my breast

and pray the prayer-before-the-prayer,

the one where I beg to know

the words I should say

 

My thoughts stray 

and I tug them back,

pondering here in the morning light

how to word my requests.

Is it healing she needs - or peace in the journey?

Shall I pray for courage 

to reach deep in the woods 

and pull her out,

or whisper hope that she finds her own way?

Wouldn’t it just be easier to say, 

you know, something like…

oh, I don’t know…

something like,

“You’ve got this God!”

 

I feel like that girl I was

in eighth grade pre-algebra,

trying to understand why in the world

I should have to figure out an equation

I would likely never use again.

My brain hurt from the trying,

and my heart would not own it.

 

But this,

this flock of sparrows -

my heart knows them,

and loves them.

Give me, please

the words to say,

those words to pray,

so you,

and I

can join our arms

in a circle 

true enough 

to hold them in.