When I am too tired to collect my thoughts, when there are too many failures to confess, a simple movement of heart becomes my prayer. I ponder, or try to remember, the closeness of His promised Presence though I feel far from Him and feel Him not at all. Having fallen short of the mark yet again and weighed down by the day's anxieties, holy fear forbids me to presume but commands me to rely on Divine Mercy. A wave of compunction wants to surface, but my mind is too sluggish to bear more than a feeble sigh. Even as I suffer this void of devotion unaware, a more simple movement takes hold. Familiar with my weakness, the Lamb who has come into the world tenderly sighs in my sigh and patiently joins my pathetic offering to His magnificent sacrifice of praise. Without my knowing how, the Good Shepherd is leading me out of self-occupation and into great silence - all He needs is a humble act of trust. In the shadow of so great and so undeserved a gift, I struggle to lower my head and bend my knees, but not in vain: His prayer gently moves my prayer when I can pray no more.