Prayer, close to the sun in lonely lands

Prayer

I believe it helps. It is interesting to see how "differently" and then too perhaps, "the same" people are about prayer.

"Hello, how are you, we will remember you or him in our prayers" is sometimes just t a greeting and nothing more. Then too many people seem to mean it when they say it and it is indeed more.

I talked today, via email, to a person I have not talked personally to for 5 years or so. The recent exchange of emails extended back a couple of weeks. Talking and working on the subject of those emails is now put off until next week, since I am not at work this week. This past contact asked about Mike and then came back and asked more and then let me know that he was a memeber of a prayer group at his church and that he would be including Mike in those prayers and wanted to have his name correct. For this individual saying that he would remember someone in his prayers was not just a greeting or a closing. It does impress me how much faith many people have and are wiilling to share. It is appreciated.

The Eagle
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he fall

Flying High, Watching, Near the Sun

Thinking of others, and being willing to ask on behalf of others, for help to come, sets one apart from the world. The world may seem lonely and hands may be alone as they search for something to clasp or do. Prayer sets one apart and brings one and all closer.

Dallas C. liked my poem and it opened a door for me.

As a side story about this poem I can't help but remember Dallas C. He was in his 80's at the time. He seemed so out of touch and his thoughts seemed to be so unconnected as he would speak up in our Sunday classes together a few years back. He had been a pilot and often spoke of his thrill at flying while trying to make some point. One day I asked him if he did email. He did and he gave me his. I sent him this poem. He wrote back and gave me a poem to think about that he had wrote. It was very well done. He often spoke of the Eagle and sent me pictures of Eagles. We communicated by email for years. Our friendship began when I thought of this Eagle as he told of his love of flying.

The eagle I see and think about in this poem flys high. Alone. Near the sun. Away from distraction. Away from the problems of daily life. The world frames and even reflects his every move. The sea itself seems wrinkled and calm below. When he finds a reason to move it is as if thunder and lightning annouce his arrival.