The wisdom warning has always been there: ‘Be careful what you pray for.’ A few days ago I prayed the prayer of the Meadowlark’s song in the scrich The Prayer of Edges.  The prayer has been challenged each day since. No. Not challenged. At times it has been bloodied, denied, defaced, deflated, and the siren’s song of abandonment lured every fiber of my body, mind, and soul. And still, the Meadowlark sang.

Sometimes I wonder if when humankind discovered fire if they missed the beauty of the dark. Light can be overwhelming, especially to the delicate beauty of frost flakes. As I waited for the windshield to defrost I savored the frost’s dancing footprints. I marveled that the brilliant sun light melting all and blinding my eyes could not be felt when I touched the windshield. A simple moment to pause and savor within a week that belied the Prayer of Edges.

The image holds my heart and cradles the Prayer of Edges. Today I listened to a different pain and its sounds. The pain of cheeks hurting from smiling to much. The sound of melting hardened frost that could see cotton candy clouds and ocean waves made golden in the sunset. The pain of hope cracking open despair. As the day ended the image of the sun’s fire and winter’s dance returns to my heart. The whisper echoes the words of Teilhard de Chardin “Someday after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity, we shall harness…the energies of love. Then for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.”

I have been battered. I have been shattered and felt lost. My sanctuary was bloodied. I have heard the passionate song of the Meadowlark. I have touched the sun’s heat and not been burned. I have seen the footprints of winter. I have discovered fire. And with bowed head and hands to my heart, may it be a continuous discovery carried with each breath. I’m old and getting older. I forget things. So may de Chardin’s infinite discovery be made by all of this earth. But may it be re-breathed and kindled each day. Sing Meadowlark as I sit by the fire’s warmth and listen to the crackling sound of the Prayer of Edges.