Saturday, December 06, 2008

A Prayer, maybe for Christmas

Dear God,

I am so afraid to open my clench fists!

Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to?

Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands?

Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me.

And what you want to give me is love – unconditional, everlasting love.


prayer by Henry Nouwen

You know, every time I visit the nursing home, this is the overwhelming impression I get. The people who grasp what this poem is speaking to, can adapt, because they haven't lost what really matters.

I pray that I am found that faithful.

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