There. I said it.
Sort of in the way that Shirley MacLaine's character, Ouiser, growls it out in "Steel Magnolia's" but yes, I pray.
My prayers are pretty limited these days as I get overwhelmed easily...it's all just too much.
But not for God.
Buried for three months, I had to rely on my mantra of listing the names of my students alphabetically each night, quickly and efficiently, like an auctioneer...purposefully avoiding the two names that could destroy me if I uttered them. My kids were my kryptonite. I trusted God to protect my girls without needing my words because He knew my anguished heart.
And then Shanna invited me on a Prayer Walk. Oh great. Two things I was bad at. I am not sure how I fumbled into this friendship but our texting reveals a story of two women who can reach out through writing. And we learned that both of us have the ability to sift through the sarcasm to find the foundation of pain, fear, anxiety, insecurity, and rage upon which our dark humor rests. So, naturally, I first made fun of and soundly mocked the idea of a Prayer Walk and then, as we both knew I would, attended.
Knowing that about a dozen people had been invited, I suggested a quick trip to town for coffee and donuts. As I had pre-ordered these items, Shanna popped into the shop to pick them up. I waited in her car, feeling my anxiety growing and hating myself for it. I got out of the vehicle in an attempt to peer into the coffee shop's tinted windows. My panic grew as I feared that I had arranged for the wrong pick-up time. Shaking, I tried some self-talk...what was the worst that could possibly happen? But it is impossible trying to rationalize with an irrational person. Finally, Shanna emerged and I could breath again.
Three people total attended the Prayer Walk so there was plenty of coffee and donut holes for everyone.
Shanna diligently composed an organized and extensive list of things for us to pray for as I mentally wrote a strongly-worded letter to the doughnut shop demanding that plain fry cake donut holes be removed from their menu. I mean, really, what's the point?
As we strode around the perimeter of the school grounds, my friends spoke heart-felt eloquent prayers that, had they been in written form, would have been scripted with a fluffy feather quill and curved into decorative cursive. I, on the other hand, kept my eyes firmly on my feet, praying silently not to trip while trying to control my breathing from their quick pace and hoping no one noticed the streams of sweat pouring down my face.
As my friends wove their words around the school, the power of their positive prayers placated my weary heart...these were petitions for wisdom, selflessness, and sacrifice. For a freedom from fear...a cry for unity and fellowship...respect and love. I felt the words beginning to form and I spoke, in a shaking voice that had forgotten how to speak out loud to God...and as emotion overcame me, I returned to my mantra...the string that kept my balloon anchored to the ground in this raging hurricane...I choked out the names of my students as I walked around the building from which we were all abruptly pulled...Shanna's hand clutched mine as I baptized the ground with my tears.
It was powerful (and a little embarrassing, thanks to my emotional outburst). As we concluded our journey together, Shanna noticed some money hanging out of my pocket. After a quick inventory, we gasped as we realized that a twenty was missing from the change of our doughnut purchase. Time to back-track. As we scoured the ground for the missing money, I kept one eye on the sprinkler system set up in the middle of the field. Was this part of God's plan all along? I wondered. During our initial mission, I didn't dare interrupt with my selfish suggestion of cooling off...but now??? We were able to retrieve the formally bygone bill and, after a lot of whining on my part, headed toward the sprinkler. It was there, that two mature, sophisticated Women of God and I lost ourselves in the pure pleasure of a childhood past-time...racing beneath a rainbow of water...shrieking and giggling. Unlike my tears, it was a different kind of baptism...a friendship forged in fun...lifting our spirits...and, for a moment, washing away our worries. To every thing there is a season...this was a time to laugh, to dance, and for me, a time to begin to heal.
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