A snowy quilt has made itself comfortable in my town. I hear there is whiteness from Texas to Maine. Some municipalities were ready. Others were not. That preparedness can mean the difference between suffering and skiing down the hill. 

 

Other kinds of cold have settled in over the past months as well.... loneliness, anxiety, estrangement. There is a hush within some routines that used to bustle with traffic, to and from jobs and school.

 

Last week I stepped into a small circle of women curious to feel grounded by prayer. Six of us shared stories about how conversation with God has warmed us, and shown us where to place the next step. It was surprising to me that such a modest effort could push back the isolation. Even in a year when we cannot touch, or breath the same air, prayer finds ways to seep through the walls. I already knew these women, and have been to their homes. But we invited each other into an even tighter circle.... one where our hearts are bare. 

 

The pandemic has created a world where something invisible to the naked eye impacts our freedom. Prayer too, cannot be captured by a camera or microscope. Yet it has the power to throw back the confines of uncertainty, giving our feet new ground to explore.