Prayer #154: Eyes Up Here

Yesterday, I was reminded that reminders come in threes.

First came what may be the most (and only) hopeful line in the conclusion of the bleak Hunger Games trilogy:
What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, now matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.

Then came my Sunday morning walk to Mass where I saw this written on a sign outside a neighborhood Lutheran church:
God seem far away?
Who moved?

And lastly came the gospel reading, which I heard loud and clear even though I was stuck in the cry room (crying, incidentally):
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat (or drink), or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?

Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?

Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?

The combined effect -- and the reminder it brought -- led to this prayer.

Prayer #154: Eyes Up Here

Worriers, I've noticed -- mainly because I am one -- spend a great deal of time looking down at their feet. The better to figure out where they are heading. The better to stay on a straight line. The better to avoid a fall.

But worriers, I've also noticed -- mainly because I am one -- waste a great deal of time looking only at their feet.

Lord, lift my chin. When the anxiety of who and where and why and what's-it-all-about clouds my vision, cause a blinking fit to clear the fog.

I don't want to dilute Your mystery; I simply want to live it. Eyes facing up will help.