“Teach us how to pray,” the disciples ask Jesus. I think their question is actually a form of prayer — the word comes from the French prier, “to ask.”
I write my daily asks in little journals almost every morning while the coffee brews in the percolator. My requests are mostly for those facing surgery, illness and grief. My prayers are for the world, too, for places I’ve never been and people I do not know. Writing these requests helps them stay with me throughout the day. I do not “pray unceasingly,” as the Apostle instructed – does anyone? – but this practice is a step in the right direction.
But I wish to tell you, gentle reader, about the end of these written prayers. Instead of the usual Amen, I close with what Irish theologian and poet Pádraig Ó Tuama calls “a little bird of praise” — a phrase that sings something I trust to be true about God back to God. I flip through a notebook to cite recent examples:
Abiding love, sudden delight
Earnest seeker, faithful finder
Relief like a breeze
Holy Ghost, come close
Hope upon hope upon hope
Those “little birds” were written months ago, yet they are still music to me, less for the words themselves than for a record of what I was thinking and perhaps what the Spirit was saying.
How do we learn to pray? Prayer is a mystery, and I read that the Spirit prays for us with groans too deep for words. Yet, I find meaning in simple phrases that, perhaps for the faint rhyme, image or for whatever reason, seem to stick — Holy Ghost, come close.
If you try to write your own little birds, don’t think you must invent a new phrase with every attempt. I am not always creative — especially before my coffee! Many mornings, I end with “Lord, our keeper,” a phrase lifted from Psalm 121. You could discover a bird of praise from any book in the Bible, maybe from every chapter. Think of looking through Scripture with what my then four-year-old daughter called “bird-oculars.”
Prayer is a mystery, yet whether seen in Scripture or through the wings of your imagination, these little birds of praise teach me something about showing up each day with intention. I’m learning about rhythm, routine, inspiration and revelation.
I’ve also noticed that I look at actual birds more attentively. More often now, I stop to listen to their songs, which might also be prayers. The ancient teacher of prayer commended the birds for our consideration. Lord of wonder, hear our prayers.
