That a little one not be too uncomfortable.
That those affected by the flooding will be comforted and will receive help.
For patience when I feel like I am waiting for so much.
For gratitude and the common sense to see everything I have now.
For the friends whose own journeys are unfolding on the page, bravely. That there be healing.
That umbrellas be opened.
That sun shines down.
That irises and rhubarb be delivered to Ila.
That my mom understand how beautiful she is, how humble she is, how much I appreciate her.
That our gardens survive.
That the seeds in the ground covering all the acres in this land survive.
For the gift of healing bodies.
For my work and the ability to commit to it fully.
That I never forget that God has flung me into a life so beautiful and wild that I can't help but whoop when the wind comes through the trees and I'm walking back from the mailbox with a letter in my hand.
That I never pray for more money.
That I remember what I've promised everyone and follow through with action.
For a heart strong as mine to share with.
For peace, dammit.
And silence and time and for remembering how much I used to love drawing and rain and writing.
That I stop worrying so much, stop trying to keep things from happening.
That I smile more because I can do that. I can smile.
That the 435 pages of the Bible I have read so far this year continue to work in me even when I don't understand everything going on.
For enough rest and peace to remember how to spell again, what words I know and how to use them.
For patience again. Because I'm already impatient and I just asked for patience.
That I learn not to be so hard on myself. And that I know when I need to be hard on myself.
For the past and its flaws and perfections.
That I remember to weave it useful instead of dragging it like a chain.
For horses. Galloping. And the smell of hay bales breaking open in layers.
That I learn this life completely.