Prayer to begin the week

This little guy is barely a week old in these pictures. If you want to see him now at 15 months, look here.

The first week of August I'm flying to Texas to spend time with him and his mommy and daddy. I'm looking forward to it so much!

The prayer for this week is from a book I've had since my  young mother days.  It's Plum Jelly and Stained Glass & Other Prayers by Jo Carr & Imogene Sorley.

• Lord,
• The words were on a poster-----
• and I can't get them out of my mind:
•  
• YOU CAN FLY . . .
• BUT THAT COCOON
• HAS GOT TO GO.

And I don't think it was talking about butterflies.

But the risk----oh, the risk of leaving the swaddling warmth of a cocoon.

My cocoon.  My status quo.

My . . . deadening security.

To leave the known,

no matter how confining it may be-----for an unknown, a totally new life-style----

oh, the risk!

Lord, my cocoon chafes, sometimes. But I know its restrictions.

And it's scary to consider the awful implications of flight.

I'm leery of heights. (Even your heights.)_

But, Lord, I could see so much wider, clearer from heights.

And there's an exhilaration about flight that I have always longed for.

I want to fly  . . .

if I could just have the cocoon to come back to.

Butterflies can't.

I can't.

Probably butterflies don't even want to----

once they've tasted flight.

It's the risk that makes me hesitate.

The knowing I can't come back to the warm, undemanding status quo.

Lord . . . about butterflies . . .

the cocoon has only two choices------

risk

or die.

What about me?

If I refuse to risk,

do I too, die inside, still wrapped in the swaddling web?

                                                                                   Lord?

Hope you have a wonderful week as you as well as I learn more about 'flying' with the Lord.