Prayer for an A.R.K.

I woke up grumpy today - maybe because I had to get up early at 8:15 (oh my gracious!) to let in a maintenance guy at 9:30. For those of you who are early birds, I envy you. For those of you who understand the power and satisfaction of waking up whenever the clock has hit double digits, you get me. I had to let in a maintenance guy to convert my three-shelved closet into a one shelved, clothes hanger-friendly closet. To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to letting in a guy who smoked and didn't care what he stepped in on the way up the stairs and end up tracking into my apartment. Not to mention, I strongly dislike when little flying creatures find their way into my apartment whenever someone decides to leave the door open - especially during the warmer weather months. I had this same experience whenever the construction people informed me that they were going to piddle with my washer/dryer. But God has a way of proving us differently.

Kind words produce their own image in men's souls;
and a beautiful image it is.
They soothe and quiet and comfort the hearer.
They shame him out of his sour, morose, unkind feelings.
We have not yet begun to use kind words
in such abundance as they ought to be used.
- Blaise Pascal

Buddy was one of the older and friendliest maintenance workers. He apologized on behalf of the construction company for not converting my closet yet since the Summer, and told me that the neighbors I would have had in the apartment I was going to move into this weekend were slobs. Oh, I forgot. Y'all don't know that story. (Sorry, my country accent had to come in somewhere.) I ended up not moving into the building next door, which had a vacant one-bedroom unit. When my mom and I went checked it out (after signing the lease) we realized that the place had never been cleaned and to make a very long story short, we decided to keep me in the same studio. Buddy commented on how nice my neighbors are; although I'm not sure if he knows of the noise they can make, but it's okay. And those pesky little flying creatures? There isn't any in here. In fact, a fly flew in and flew right out and didn't bother me. The weather is gorgeous outside and I even got to talk to my neighbors about their little two year old who may need to get evaluated at the clinic. I forget how much I over-think and stress about the simple, silly, petty thing. And that's where prayer comes in. I've been getting into "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. At this point, she is in an Ashram in India, and is learning the discipline of authentic prayer. Below is an excerpt from pages 176-177:

"You can imagine God regarding that prayer with an arched eyebrow, and sending back this message: 'Call me again when you decide to get serious about this.' ... Prayer is a relationship, half the job is mine. ... If I don't feel sincere, then I will stay there on the floor until I do. What worked yesterday doesn't always work today. Prayers can become stale and drone into the boring and familiar if you let your attention stagnate. In making an effort to stay alert, I am assuming custodial responsibility for the maintenance of my own soul."

She's right. If we pray a cookie-cutter prayer, is there really any true meaning behind it? I remember praying the Lord's Prayer one night and it seemed so sing-a-long like when I said it. Then, I really got to business. After each memorized line, I expanded. I told God specific things that I felt when I said that line. Not to mention, without losing the intentional meaning, I said it in my own, simple words. And the result of that was a thirty minute deep, meaningful, conversation with God. I felt like I was sitting in his lap like a little girl, telling him how my day went and the other things that are on my mind.

How do we change the world?
One Act of Random Kindness.
-Evan Almighty