As a new Texan, over 3 years ago, relative strangers would discover how sick my dad was. They would offer to pray for him. They always asked me for his name, just so they could make sure it reached heaven's ears when they said a prayer. This happened often. And every time, I simply marveled at the gift.
Yesterday, I was thinking about all those offers for prayer. Did they change the outcome of my dad's story? No, that wasn't His plan. But, I do think they softened the edges of the harsh reality a bit. All those prayers somehow gave me a soft place to rest when the grief was too heavy.
I've had a particular friend on my mind. Well, she is actually more of a friend of a friend. But, her story has reached me. She's in the midst of hard stuff. Not the average hard stuff. More of the world shattering kind. And as I've thought of her, I've thought of those prayers and all the strangers who each sent my dad's name to the Lord.
We all know someone who is struggling. Maybe more than one. Or, maybe that someone is us. Either way, I think there is strength to be found when we pray for one another. No matter our religious beliefs, those words spoken are sent as a sacred offering. We can't change the details of anyone's story. We can't fix what's broken. But, we can always offer strength through our whispered words.
So, I pray for the one who I know is struggling. I pray that she might find stable ground to stand on in order to know which direction to take. We can pray together. I think there is strength in numbers. The offering isn't grand and can't be tied up with a bow. But, it's given with heart and hope. And those kinds of gifts are always the ones to reach heaven first.
2 comments :
beautifully put.
I LOVE your writing - PLEASE write a book!
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