I beg like a child, in part because I know no other words.
For someone who loves to craft words, I often find myself stumbling over them as I pray.
No words seem full enough or big enough or small enough or just right.
And so I pause on repeat, not contemplating sentence structure or grammar or flow.
Not groping for synonyms, I give in to the repetition and just go.
I do it with please and thank you, but also with names and random words that pop into my mind.
Bible verses learned long ago nudge their way into my moments and I grab the word that is the brightest.
Or, honestly, the darkest…because sometimes it’s the darkness that draws me in.
It took me years to understand why someone would (or could!) meditate on one word.
It took me years to understand, but it seems to be taking me even longer to learn how.
I struggle to clear my mind, to focus on one specific thing.
Even when I sequester myself away from my family, I still hear their voices, their laughter and squeals, the sounds of life.
But I am even more easily distracted by the voices within, the ones that whisper and the ones that shout.
And so I chant.
One word at a time.