Oh, that I would be more faithful in remembering all of the requests others place in my hands.
It’s not that I don’t try. It’s just this world, this pace. The effort it takes to be centered and tending to the many areas of life instead the homemaker now, writer then, friend first, and neighbor when I see the need. Can you remember the names, Favored One?
I have stacks of journals, names and requests littered throughout the pages. I have specific prayer journals, separate lists, and notes on the refrigerator. Oh, that I could write them better on my heart because my head is so full some days I forget to even see their faces.
Eugene Peterson writes in the introduction to Jeremiah,
He wrote what he lived, he lived what he wrote. There is no dissonance between his life and his book. Some people write better than they live; others live better than they write. Jeremiah, writing or living, was the same Jeremiah.
I am captivated.
Tobi, writing or living, was the same Tobi.
So I write my prayers. I thumb through journal pages and find the faces I’ve forgotten in my internal stream of consciousness, my constant chattering with God. And I ask Him, how can I live these prayers I have written so well? Please write them on the walls of my heart, where my life-source flows past each second of my life. Show me how to see them.
God’s there, listening for all who pray, for all who pray and mean it. Psalm 145:18