The first weeks of this year have been some of the hardest of my life for many reasons.

My tendency as is true for many people is to manage the hurt. Responding by fleeing, fighting, or freaking. Internally I have done all three. However, the dramatic conclusion I have found is I am utterly helpless.

At this dark intersection came a realization. As I watch my son try to make sense of a new family with new values and a new language I thought of the family of God. We as God’s adopted children have entered into a family with it’s own values and language.

The values and language of God’s family may seem strange at first. Values like letting go of ego, giving God say over all aspects of our life, and putting others first all seem opposite of the world surrounding us. And this new language, prayer, being still and in the presence of the Creator demands the silencing of the typical frentic chaos. Yet here in discovering this new language we find it is actually not new at all. It is our original language, our heart language, lost generations ago.

In these dark moments I have rediscovered this heart language in a fresh way. Prayer is a rest in the midst of motion. When everything is hard, dark, hurting, and I realize my helplessness prayer is the focused attention on the only one who has control, an opening of my heart to His presence with me.

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