Grief comes in waves of emotion. Even with the comfort of truth there are many tears and much fear. When people ask what they can do, we are not repeating trite words when we ask for prayer. We are counting on you to hold the ropes. We are counting on you to pray.
When I wake in the early morning darkness and feel calmness instead of rising panic, I will know you are praying.
When my family gathers around the table and there is soft laughter and easy conversation instead of more tears, we will know you are praying.
When my teenagers ask hard questions and we can answer with calm assurance, we will know you are praying.
When the heavy cloak of sadness is lifted enough for us to enjoy the moments we are given, we will know you are praying.
When our steps are weary and yet we do not stumble, do not falter, do not doubt–we will know you are praying.
When there are pieces of mercy–bits of good news, financial provision, acts of kindness shown–we will know you are praying.
If spiritual eyes are opened and the blind are made to see, we will know you are praying.
If my children move toward God instead of pulling away in confusion or bitter sadness, we will know you are praying.
When pain and darkness come and we are able to kiss the hand that brings them, we will know you are praying.
If Marissa is strengthened and enabled to walk this pilgrim journey with eyes of faith;
if she runs sure and strong down this appointed path to the finish line;
if she doesn’t doubt, walks without fear, leans hard on everlasting arms;
if joy sustains her and grace surrounds her;
if she walks by faith and not by sight–
then we will know.
We will know you are praying.
Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2