When I look up from feeding the outside dogs to see the moon coming up through the bare trees like the wide iris of God’s own eye – when I feel the beam of it enter my busy heart straight through the zipper of my fleece jacket and fill me full of light – I am in prayer. When I spend all afternoon chopping onions, stewing tomatoes, and setting the dining room table with every piece of silver I own for a supper of soup and bread with friends, I am in prayer. When I am so sick that I cannot do anything but lie in bed with a jar of Vick’s Vaporub and a blister pack of cold pills somewhere in the sheets, with all the time in the world to remember whom I love and why, I am in prayer.
Barbara Brown Taylor
(from An Alter in the World)