Every journey we take changes us, we never come home the same. The greatest journeys — those of loss — change us most. Death or divorce or mourning: these journeys change us irrevocably.

Orpheus learned this long, long, ago; and we still walk that journey to hell and back. Changed but redolent with memory. We discover that the dead must bury the dead: they are no longer ours. We can only look back and sing our song.

I believe it is the function (if such a functional word is appropriate), the function of prayer, to take us on a journey. Not to find answers but to live with questions; and to be changed by the journey. Home takes on new meaning — more sanctuary than home but a place of abiding none-the-less.

Prayer rarely changes things, it is we who are changed; changed in unexpected ways. A journey within a journey; a means of transformation. Not more certain, but certainly more surrendered.

Even this blog will journey. Who knows? God knows.


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