Tag: Prayer

  • Anointed in Grief

    Anointed in Grief

    One of your favorite people stopped by today, sweet boy. She is one of mine as well. Walking into the house with a smile, determination, and a bag hanging off her shoulder she said,

    “I have some things. I want to pray over you. Is that ok?”

    We sat on the couch as she pulled frankincense and myrrh anointing prayer oil out of her bag.

    “Can I have your hands?” she asked offering hers as well.

    Using the anointing prayer oil she poured them on my:

    HANDS

    “Father Abba, these are a mother’s hands. These hands have cared for Wesley. They fed him, held his hands, carried him, picked him up when he fell. They have cradled him to sleep and wiped his brow. These are a mother’s loving hands. They have catheterized him, washed him, and cared for his wounds. Though they feel empty, we know you can fill them. I pray you would heal them and give them new purpose when it is time.”

    FEET

    “These are a mother’s feet. They have chased Wesley around the house. They have pushed his wheelchair through stores and malls and Time Square so he would enjoy life. They have walked around the home in the care of him. They have paced hospital rooms. These feet have walked in your purpose and have followed you. I pray you would give them rest. I pray you would rejuvenate them. May they follow your new path and new purpose in Your time.”

    MIND

    “This is a mother’s mind. She has worried about her children. She has thought about their well being and solved their problems. She planned Wesley’s days. She advocated and spoke to doctors. This mother’s mind made hard decisions. She learned so much to become licensed to care for Wesley. I pray you would help her to use that knowledge to help others when it is time. I pray lord you would give her peace and healing. Please be close when she is anxious. I pray, in time, you would give her new thoughts of hope and tomorrows. May the memories here become more joyful than painful.

    HEART

    “This is a mother’s heart. In here her children have lived and forever will. Wesley filled her heart and though he is ok her heart is not. There is an emptiness, God, that only You can fill. This mother’s heart is broken but You hold the pieces. You hold her. She has loved them unconditionally and abundantly. Her heart is hurting now and I pray you would sit with her. I pray you would comfort her and fill her heart with Your love. Give her peace.”

    I sobbed the entire time, sweet boy. Crying is my normal these days, but these tears felt different. They were cleansing. They were heavy with grief yet light with praise and had an ever so slight tinge of hope and peace.

    My hands are empty. My feet long to be tired. My heart is destroyed. My mind is foggy. For now. We have been talking in our home, sweet boy, about adding “for now” to the end of our sentences. We desperately need hope it is only this twistedly wrenching for now.

    Granular relief during global grief.

    Our friend gave us a beautiful gesture and powerful prayer of deep love. For over twenty years she has celebrated our family’s victories and reached into the pit especially when your dad died and when Grandpa died. She came to the hospital to pray with us at midnight when you first began crashing. Sweet boy, whenever you heard her voice even from the other room you would crawl out to see her. You loved her because you recognized God’s love incarnate. Like recognizes like.

    A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity

    Proverbs 17:17. There is that number again.

  • In the Hallway

    In the Hallway

    Sometimes the door closes softly and other times it slams. Sometimes God closes it and sometimes other people do yet God allows it. And you stand there directionless in the hallway because no other door has yet to open.

    When Wesley was in the hospital over the summer my most fervent prayers were offered in hallways. As I prayed, deep down I knew they were going to tell me whatever it was they would. I knew God is still in the business of miracles but I also knew His miracles are, at times, not the miracle we want. Could my prayer make his heart function properly and the vegetation go away? Could it make our son live? Could I receive the strength to face another day in the ICU? They could. Would they? I wasn’t sure.

    Praying was the only thing I could do but I don’t say that in a helpless way. Quite the contrary, there is unmatched power when we are utterly powerless.

    There is nothing to distract you in a hallway as you stand eagerly waiting for the door to open. We are distilled down to the very core of what matters. Plain and simple. Uncomplicated.

    In my life God has either closed doors or allowed doors to be closed that I did not want shut. I loved the room I was in and would have never left any other way. As I wait in the hallway He prepares another room for me. I do not know how long it will take but wait with joyful anticipation. I know the One who works on my behalf and I know it will ultimately be more than I could ask or imagine.

    And so I don’t force open the door behind me. I only need to work on my obedience and the grace with which I handle the closure. I do the next right thing.

    Beyond praying, I remain active in the waiting. I worship. I do His work without a room. I remain obedient even if it doesn’t seem to make sense.

    Steve and I have to figure out a new plan for our non-profit food truck. Everything was disrupted from where we store it to what nights we are open to where we can park to open. But we catered a wedding on New Years Eve and had a little income. Since it was just Steve and me working and we take no salary we had some money left. My instinct was to save it all since we are still working on a plan. We are in the hallway. But God.

    Last night I received a desperate message from a beloved family we have helped in the past. They were out of food. Completely. They live in an area where there is no food bank. They needed help.

    This morning I went shopping and it filled my heart with inexplicable joy. I imagined how it would feel to not have food for your children and receive the gifts I was buying. I thought about their hallway and God using Legaci Eats to open a door for them.

    God will open the next door in His perfect timing. Until then I can be active in the waiting. I can allow Him to use me for the good of others knowing miraculous things happen in the hallway that are just as impactful and important as the next room.

    And so I shall.