Archives for posts with tag: prayer

I remember the day my sister told me. I was sitting at the dining room table in the chair closest to the stairs when she leaned in and said she was pregnant and that I was going to be an aunt. I was 9 so I knew what that was — and what it was like to have my cheeks pinched and be asked what grade I was in at family gatherings.

Within minutes I had started carrying my toddler-sized teddy bear on my hip to practice for the baby, and I had decided I would be a different kind of aunt. I’d know what grade my niece or nephew was in, and we’d always be close and have things to talk about.

20140414-203315.jpgWhen DeWayne arrived that June, I did my best to keep my promise. I learned how to hold him and carried pictures of him in a sailor suit in my wallet. I worked with him to learn my name and taught him commercial jingles that my sister really didn’t like for him to sing in public.

But one day, when he was probably between 2 and 3, he come to our house with a cold. His little eyes were watering. His nose was clogged, and for the first time, I couldn’t make him laugh no matter how many silly faces I made. This was something we’d just have to wait out, my mama said, let time do its work.

DeWayne, at 2, helping me read.

I tried to hold on to that when the phone calls started coming, the kind where you hear DeWayne’s wife is in the hospital and she and the baby aren’t doing well. The second call that tells you it’s too early, too risky, and the third call that says the precious baby is here, crying and pink.

I tied four ribbons on our makeshift prayer tree that night, one on the very edge of each of the tallest branches. I wanted my prayers of thanks to be the highest, most visible, ribbons on our tree because gratitude is an important prayer all its own.

We were in the clear, I thought, until the final phone call that made me want to snap the ends off those four branches of the prayer tree. The call that had me packing for Oklahoma.

Soon I was sitting at DeWayne’s table dividing up the Starburst candy like he was 10 again. There, among the reds and the pinks, we shared the sweet and the bitter. We talked of God and empty cribs and barren souls. Of leaving ribbons on trees even when you don’t feel thankful at the moment. Of questions that cut deep through the layers of religion and struck the essence of faith.

Some questions didn’t find their answers that day, or the next. But some things can’t be rushed. Sometimes we have to let time and God do their work.

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I come from a place that’s no stranger to storms, a place where Mama restocked the storm shelter each spring and where schools — from kindergarten to college — have tornado drills.

We prepare because we know the rain and wind will come. The tornado might not touch down on our house or our town, but it will surely blow and threaten. We will need to take cover. We will need to find the strongest place in a building or dig shelters deep into the earth. We’ll bow down and cover our heads. And wait.

Others wonder why we stay in a place where our very air twists and destroys. But we know that storms are everywhere. Ice. Floods. Fires. Earthquakes.

No place is immune, and so we stay. We help each other, and we rebuild.

Sure, we’re scared and we’re cautious, but we’re home.

*I don’t know how to credit this picture. It’s being passed around Facebook, and I really wanted to share it here.

prayer book1At each meal, we hold hands and pray. Our 5-year-old, Benjamin, always volunteers to lead and the rest us of tag on prayer requests and mentions of gratitude. But recently, one prayer request was weighing so heavily on me that I requested Benjamin add it to his beginning — that we all pay special attention to my best friend’s health.

I told the boys how Ang is having trouble moving, how her limbs are stiff and she’s in pain. How doctor after doctor has had no solution to offer.

We often have a running prayer list on the chalkboard but two of our family members are not yet reading. So, this time, I asked Ang for a recent picture, and we began our family prayer book. It’s just a simple $1 album and photos of those who are on our hearts, but it’s helping all of us feel included in the prayer list.

How have you helped children pray?

Do you have a prayer request? If so, there’s room in the album…

 

St Michael's 2Dearest readers,

Could you help me with a little project? I think several of us are feeling emotionally drained, maybe even a bit dry in our creativity, so I have this plan to focus on hope in the days leading up to Easter… this plan for us all to journal and create and inspire one another during Lent.

St Michael's 3So, I’d like to invite artists of all abilities to design journaling pages that readers can download.

And my writing friends, would you consider what you might contribute on the art of sharing your soul?

Photographers, do you have pictures of hope — or suggestions of how we might capture hope in pixels or on film?

Musicians, what should we listen to as we prepare our hearts for Easter? Dancers, what can we do to move toward hope?

I’ll share more details soon, but if you are interested in helping with this project, please let me know by Jan. 10.

Thank you for considering it!

Blessings,

Marketta

Tina wanted to wait until her new home was unpacked to send pictures, but who can wait to tell the good news?

Tina has everything she needs.

“I have an entire bedroom set — even a washer and dryer,” she told me as she unpacked and settled in to a borrowed home. “We still need a couch and a love seat but those are coming in another week. We may have to buy a hot water tank, we’re not sure… oh, wait, no we won’t. Dad just said he’d buy one for us if we need it.”

In the week since the wildfire, her voice has grown stronger and our conversation has gone from worry and uncertainty to celebration and gratitude.

“People have responded like crazy,” she said, still in awe of how folks opened their hearts and their homes to help her. Now, when she and Lee return from their honeymoon they’ll have a two-bedroom house waiting for them. “God is great,” Tina said.

And they’ll know that they aren’t starting their new lives alone.

We’re all standing with them.

 

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me. 

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ 

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” – Matthew 25: 35-40 (NIV)

 

 

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