Direct my will, teach me to pray, pray thou thyself in me.
Direct my will, because will without direction spends itself getting lost in the maze of distractions that every day offers. When you direct my will, the world changes from a maze that confuses me to a labyrinth that leads me to you.
Teach me to pray, because I can’t hear you or talk to you without learning from you. Prayer is holding myself and others up to you, handing my world back to you. Teach me, or I will grasp at things and cling to them rather than opening myself to your embrace.
Pray thou thyself in me, because who I am is rooted in who you are. When you pray in me, my smallest self is embraced by you.
Praying is dancing. When we are babies, someone dances us around, held in arms high above the floor. As we grow, someone slides feet under ours, teaching us the steps, holding us secure as we move to the music. When we put away childish size, we stand on our own feet, dancing with the partner of our soul who has shown us grace from the very first minute the music began.