A circle. Of prayer.
We hold hands and lift these words.
Higher and higher they rise.
We begin the praying together.
We are small in number; large in heart.
The burden is heavy.
I see it etched in every face.
Feel it resting on my shoulders.
Time to lay it down.
It slips, sliding from my shoulders, falling from their lips.
Into a messy pile in front of us, in front of Him.
It looks different there…somehow smaller.
Love covers these things over. Love has a way of making things smaller.
But I feel it more than know it…
We, each one, pick it back up as we leave that circle of prayer.
Pluck the bits we cannot leave up into our hands and furtively tuck them back into our hearts.
But it is a beginning. A good place to start. Before Him.
Humbled and broken.