She asked that I go to them, and an hour later I was walking as fast my heels could carry me to the ER. The first sister I saw was standing outside the building, exhausted. I tried my best not to tear up as I delicately wrapped my arms around her bruised body.
As we walked inside, there the younger sister sat and it took all my strength not to squeeze her to death, elated that she was in one piece—albeit a little bruised, bloodied, and covered in her Starbucks strawberry frappuccino.
As they gathered their belongings, their brother, who had luckily not been in tow with the sisters, and his friends stood up from the uncomfortable chairs. We all began to edge toward the door, but before we made it out, one of the friends asked, “Can we pray? I think we should pray…”
We gathered in a circle, listening to the words he spoke, the prayers he prayed over the family, rejoicing over our God who gave them another day.
I mean, right there, in the middle of the hospital, he prayed. I had never seen that before.
And right there, my heart was like, “Why can’t I do this?”
And then the questions came.
Why don’t I pray more?
Why don’t I pray with others?
Why can’t I pray confidently?
Why don’t I have a group who knows my prayers?
And I couldn’t think of any answers.
For the last two years I’ve wanted so desperately a group of women with whom I could consistently and openly share prayers. And right now I have so many prayers.
I do great sharing them with God, but who do I really ask to pray with me? And even though I have that longing, have I done anything to change it? No…and so today was when I finally thought to myself I’m tired of that longing.
So I took a breath, wrote a message that hopefully displayed my intentions well, and sent it to about 50 women.
I don’t know how quite this will turn out, but much of it is truly just turning over my pride to God, if it doesn’t. I’m hoping and praying and meditating for what’s to come. God, this in Your hands, and I’ll move forward in whatever way You direct. Even if that includes going back to drawing board empty handed.
