“A soul which does not practice the exercise of prayer is very like a paralyzed body which, though possessing feet and hands, makes no use of them.”
— St. Alphonsus Liguori
There have been seasons when I’ve felt this paralysis deep in my bones. Not because I stopped believing, but because I stopped reaching. I had the language of faith, the rituals, the memory of closeness—but my soul had grown still. It was like my soul forgot how to move. Prayer felt distant, like a door I couldn’t quite open.
St. Alphonsus’ words pierce gently. They remind me that prayer isn’t just a spiritual discipline—it’s movement. It’s the soul remembering how to walk, how to stretch toward God, even if all it can manage is an upward look or a whispered plea.
I’ve learned that even the smallest gesture—a sigh, a tear, a quiet “Lord, I’m here”—is prayer. It’s the soul saying, “I may be weary, but I want to move again.” And God, ever tender, responds not with judgment but with healing. He takes our paralyzed limbs and teaches them to dance.
If your soul feels heavy today, know you’re not alone. Begin with the smallest motion. Let prayer be less about words and more about presence. Let it be the way your soul remembers how to live.
Smitten With Goodness 