A beautifully honest prayer

I see Your hands,
not white and manicured, but scarred and scratched and competent,
reach out--
not always to remove the weight I carry,
but to shift its balance, ease it,
make it bearable.
Lord, if this is where You want me,
I'm content.
No, not quite true. I wish it were.
All I can say, in honesty, is this:
If this is where I'm meant to be,
I'll stay. And try.
Just let me feel Your hands.
And, Lord, for all who hurt today--
hurt more than me--
I ask for strength and that flicker of light,
and warmth, that says You're there.
                                                      ~Eddie Askew Many Voices, Once Voice