Prayer #11: Soul Food
Emily: Because naturally my soul is a white fluffy cloud. With sparkles. Pink sparkles.
Prayer #11: Soul Food
What does my soul look like?
It's made of light, the kind that fills my bedroom on a Sunday morning in spring, and makes my walls glow golden. On creative days, it pulses with prism colors.
My soul is scored. It's accompanied by music that matches my mood. It sings show tunes and arias when it's strong. And it weeps on a violin when wounded.
Laughter and silliness feed my soul. So do joy, approval, and compassion. My soul requires the occasional reset -- a bout of guilt, a wallow in shame -- but that's tough love, and good medicine.
My soul is wanted by forces all over the universe, holy, evil, and everything in between. It's up to me to look up to you, and strive to stay on your side.
Protect my soul, Jesus. Keep it whole. Keep it pure. And keep me aware of its limitless potential and profound glory as a instrument for your work on earth.
May I put my soul in all I do, while always entrusting it to you. Amen.
Prayer #11: Soul Food
What does my soul look like?
It's made of light, the kind that fills my bedroom on a Sunday morning in spring, and makes my walls glow golden. On creative days, it pulses with prism colors.
My soul is scored. It's accompanied by music that matches my mood. It sings show tunes and arias when it's strong. And it weeps on a violin when wounded.
Laughter and silliness feed my soul. So do joy, approval, and compassion. My soul requires the occasional reset -- a bout of guilt, a wallow in shame -- but that's tough love, and good medicine.
My soul is wanted by forces all over the universe, holy, evil, and everything in between. It's up to me to look up to you, and strive to stay on your side.
Protect my soul, Jesus. Keep it whole. Keep it pure. And keep me aware of its limitless potential and profound glory as a instrument for your work on earth.
May I put my soul in all I do, while always entrusting it to you. Amen.