First Stop of the New Year: Prayer - Part One

I'm tired. No, I'm weary. I'm exhausted. I am utterly and completely, deep in my bones tired. With both of the kids sick, and myself as well, the last two months have been very trying. Lately though, with the onslaught of sickness I have lost my way. Instead of exercising every day, writing a lot every day, editing, spending time in prayer, I have been just . . . wandering through my days and cramming all of those things in at the end of the day when I can barely keep my eyes open. This is another one of those days so this post will be in two part, second part tomorrow.

How is your prayer life? How do you pray? Since I was a little girl hiding, nursing bruises and a broken spirit among the flowers in our garden, I've talked with God like a friend, my best friend. Sometimes I ramble. I have a feeling sometimes I get on His last nerve because I'll get started and just go on and on, one thing leading to another. But when I was a little girl sitting in the flower bed feeling the velvety petals and knowing that God was in the flowers, I would just talk to Him. I had no friends, no one else I could talk to, so God got to hear it all. I have gone through periods in my life where I haven't really prayed, not daily prayer, just occasional things like "Oh my God, Bee isn't breathing please don't let her die." Things like that. But then there have been periods when I've prayed a lot. In the last couple of years I pray daily, rambling. I usually fall asleep talking with God. I bet He is usually pretty thrilled when I drift off, too, cause I can go on and on. 

Tonight, I watched War Room. Now, normally I'm not into Christian movies. They are usually very poorly done, the writing is bad, the acting worse. I had high hopes for God's Not Dead but was terribly disappointed. I will say that The Encounter with Bruce Marchiano was really very good. He plays a very convincing Jesus. Me, Again was cute and Christmas Angel . . . well, it was excellent and we love Della Reese ( especially Bee, she loves hearing her sing ) but the movie makes me feel lonely so I don't like to watch it so we skipped it this past Christmas season. Anyway, my point is that most Christian movie are not very good. I wasn't sure what to expect from War Room. What I got was excited, encouraged, and inspired. 

Every single night I pray the same things, the same way. Since I went a little crazy I'm a tiny bit OCD so there are some things that are just going to stay the same because my brain - even with my magic pills - is telling me bad things will happen if they don't. That's fine, God understands.  I have a very small life, I know, personally, exactly 32 people and I pray for each of them every night, plus some people that Noah knows and has mentioned. I even pray for my ex-husband and his now ex-wife because I'm hoping one day my prayers for them to be blessed will be sincere. But, in the end, my prayers are always the same: God bless this person, this person, and so on, occasionally adding a specific thing like heal them or help them with a particular issue, then I get to my kids, myself and then, well, I ramble. I ramble about things that bother me in the world, my worries, lots of what if's and existential blah blah blah (for the record and this has nothing to do with my recent crazy, I believe in aliens or the possibility and it doesn't challenge my faith in God or belief in the bible at all), then I read my daily devotion and the accompanying scripture, my usual comforting bible passages, look at the news quickly to see if anything jumps out that needs a little prayer and then I'm done. Same thing, for two years. And it's fine, I think, But it isn't enough. It's more like when my father would call his parents on Sunday afternoons to catch up and check in. Nothing exciting, nothing new but changes in the weather, same conversation every week. 

But this movie, it made me think.. Not that I haven't been thinking about it, my prayer life, but I've been kind of stymied. Without the chance to get to church, I'm kind of on my own in this. I'm in the middle of the sea with no land in sight, just swimming in whatever direction is easiest. 

Prayer shouldn't be like that, though. Prayer should be so much more than just the usual everyday stuff. I mean, sure, you can have that. That's great, gabbing with your bestie God. But it needs to be more. 

As a rather . . . reserved . . . person, I'm not going to jump around and scream "Hallelujah!" or anything like that. In fact, I consider my relationship with God to be the most intimate, private relationship I have. But there is certainly room for more passion, more enthusiasm, more time and commitment, more listening, more focus. 

My kids are both finally asleep so I'm going to head that way myself. But a thought to drift off on - how do I create a revolution in my prayer life?

Let's Visit Loneliness Again

     I have - or had, not sure any more - a wonderful group of friends. We were a group of seven women and we've known each other for about thirteen years. The last couple of years have been very hard financially for my kids and I and my friends have been so wonderfully supportive. When they found out that the last week of the month is so lean I don't eat, and that Noah doesn't eat that much, they sent groceries, grocery money. When they discovered we couldn't afford the groceries for a Thanksgiving or Christmas feast, they ordered them delivered straight to our door two years in a row. They sent Christmas presents to my children. Lovely women. Truly a blessing from God. They didn't care about our financial situation, understood that I could never repay them, and reached out to help us anyway. We would not have made it through the last two years without their kindness and generosity.
     It seemed that these wonderful women would always be in my life, they were my family. But then, depression hit. I can deal with depression. It made things a little harder, moving through life was a little more difficult but I was still moving forward. Then the anxiety hit. Terrible panic attacks, paralyzing fear. I tried to talk to these wonderful friends of mine but they didn't seem to listen. I was told to look on the bright side, to stop feeling sorry for myself, to make the choice to be happy, to be stronger. I could feel their impatience with me growing. They messaged less and less. No more phone calls. I tried not to talk about how I was feeling, I understood that there were some things people didn't want to deal with, even the most wonderful, giving, loving people. After a while there was silence. No phone calls, no messages. I would check my mail every day hoping for a card, a little note that said "Hey, I love you and you are not alone. I'm thinking about you." It took a few weeks to realize the mailbox would be empty but for the bills and junk mail, that the phone was not going to ring.
     I have never felt more alone in my life, and that is saying something. There has been one woman, a newer friend that I am still getting to know, that has been here for me as she can. I say as she can because she deals with many of the same issues I do: financial struggles, physical pain due to a disease or disorder (though she hasn't received a diagnosis yet but we are praying for one), depression, anxiety. She knows my darkness and sits with me in it when she can. I try to do the same for her. When my family of girlfriends abandoned me, God had someone else ready. He had laid the foundation for this two years previously when her daughter met my son at school. Eventually her character convinced my son - who had been an atheist up to that point - to come to her church. He would walk every Sunday to mass. Four miles round trip in the hot Florida sun, wearing his dress shirt and tie and not made for long walks dress shoes. One day her father found out and the rest is history. He started taking Noah to mass, became his sponsor in his RCIA class. Her mother and I started talking and we really clicked. Then things started to fall apart in my life. But God had already known what was going to happen, He had already been at work preparing.
     How much time do you think God spends working in the background of our lives, building bridges over troubled waters, spreading safety nets for those times we try to fly without Him, preparing a shoulder when we need a friend? I think He spends a lot more time than we realize. I think God is always working on something, forever at His loom weaving the tapestry of our lives. We may lose sight of God but neither God nor Jesus has ever lost sight of us. The bible abounds with proof of this but I think I was most moved to believe it when I read John 17:20-26:

My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world. Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.

     That was about me. That was about you. Even before we were born Jesus was praying for us. Even in this moment Jesus is praying for us. We don't deserve it. I am often ashamed to address Jesus in prayer, I know that some of the pain, the horror that He endured was caused by me. By my selfishness, my sins, and I have a hard time coming to Him in prayer. But Jesus will wait for me, as will God. And in the meantime, Jesus will continue to pray and God will continue to weave a foundation for me that no amount of anxiety or depression can obscure. Lupus pain and illness cannot change. Loss of family and friends cannot break it. If I have no other family, if there is not a human on this Earth that thinks of me on any day, I still have a Father and I still have a Brother and they are weaving and praying and loving me and when I am so alone on this Earth I weep, I am not alone in Creation.

A Little Side Trip on the Crazy Train

At the last stop I got off and boarded the crazy train. Not by choice. I think I was just going to the gift shop at the train station to restock on chocolate and got on the wrong train. This one is terrible and the sound of the wheels against the track is like a voice that tells me this fight is pointless. I've tried everything I can to combat this anxiety and depression. Eating healthy within my limited food budget, exercise daily, drink lots of green tea, none of these things seem to be helping. I've lost all but one of my friends, this is the one tough time they couldn't seem to stick through. I've been told to stop feeling sorry for myself, to make the choice to feel better and that has only left me more alone. This is not a choice. Trust me, who would choose to feel like this?! Two years ago on the 23rd of this month a dear friend of ours committed suicide. At the time I could not imagine why he would do such a thing. His business was successful, he was surrounded by loving family. I understand so much better now. Sometimes when I'm not in crazy mode and I feel almost close to normal I can still feel it, like an itch, in the back of my mind. A watchfulness, wondering what is the next thing to set me off, when am I going to feel that awful anxiety again? Anxiety is such a tame word for it. It is a terror, a horror, and because it is inside of your mind you can't escape it no matter what you do. I've been reading two books during this time: the bible and Thornyhold by Mary Stewart. I've read that book about two dozen times in the last few months. While reading either one I achieve a quasi-calm. I read a daily devotion from In Touch Ministries (www.intouch.org) and follow up with Psalm 118 and Matthew 11:28-30 then I just flip through until something catches my eye. I have a lot of passages highlighted and tons of bookmarks in my bible so I often turn to something that has brought me peace before.
Recently I was allowed to go through some of the old family photos. I found a few pictures of myself as a little girl. I was not a happy child. Solitary and lonely, always daydreaming, so different from my family. Most of the pictures show me with a small, forced smile. I felt unloved and knew that it was true. One of the biggest revelations in my life has been that I have spent my life looking for love and approval, never to find it. I didn't remember my mother, my father was too busy with my brothers and my stepmother was every kind of evil stepmom cliche' rolled into one. Do you know what it does to a person when the people that are supposed to love them do not? You look for love, everywhere.
I grew up in a fire and brimstone church and heard the phrase "God'll get you for that" often. I developed a fearful relationship with God, with which I still struggle. Over time though I have come to realize that all the love, all the parental guidance and approval I have longed for is available to me through God, my father. Because He is, indeed, my father. And yours. He isn't sitting up on some cloud looking down and saying "Okay, if she messes up one more time I'm really going to give it to her!" It took me a long time to figure that out - though I still have those irrational fears in the back of my mind.
One day, though, while looking through the bible I found a passage that gave me such a wonderful look at God as a father that I not only underlined the passage but I got out my yellow highlighter and then added a bookmark to the page. I turn to it often:

Hosea 11:1-4

When Israel was a child, I loved him

and out of Egypt I called my son.

But the more I called Israel

the further they went from me.

They sacrificed to the Baals

and they burned incense to images.

It was I who taught Ephraim to walk,

taking them by the arms;

but they did not realize

it was I who healed them.

I led them with cords of human kindness,

with ties of love;

I lifted the yoke from their neck

and bent down to feed them.

Such a wonderful image of a dedicated, loving father desperately trying to help His children. Even if you didn't grow up with parents that loved you, you still did, because God has always been your father. And mine. I think about that a lot lately, and I turn to my father in these dark times. I know He is there, I know. But so often I still feel alone in the dark. But I read those words in Hosea and I think that maybe as much as I am struggling, He is trying to help me. I hope so, I really need the help right now. 

Matthew 11:28-29

     The last few days have been quite a struggle for me. When the sun comes up, I feel such relief - I made it through the night. I don't sleep a lot anymore, I'm up all night. I used to be up all night because my daughter, Bee, needed me to turn her, or change her diaper, put more food in her bag, give her meds or a breathing treatment. I still do all of that stuff but after 20 years it is routine. Now, I don't sleep because the anxiety has my nerves stretched to the breaking point. Before the last few months I'd have said I was well acquainted with stress, anxiety and depression. Twenty years as my daughters' only caregiver has certainly given me more than a passing relationship with them. But I have discovered that I knew absolutely nothing about true depression and anxiety, until recently. I have been guilty of losing my patience with friends that seem to stay in their depressions, that stress out over simple things until they take to their couch in a fit of nerves. I've been guilty of saying inane things like "Start your day off with good thoughts" and "You have to choose to be happy" and other rather foolish things. I see a pattern in my life of judgement. I think that is one of the lessons I'm supposed to learn in this life: do not judge.
     In high school my best friend became pregnant. I didn't see her for several months and when I did, I was shocked that she had gained so much weight. It wasn't just pregnancy weight, it was what-have-I-done-to-my-life weight. I made some flippant comments about her weight and never knew, until much later, how much they hurt her. Fast forward a few years and I became pregnant with my first child. I was somewhere between 100 and 108 pounds when I became pregnant. In fact, I'd always been underweight, my whole life. But by the time I gave birth I had gained 100 pounds. The doctors couldn't figure out why, they ran every test, monitored my food. Now, I know why.
     A few years later when my son was about eight a friend was struggling with her teenage son. He had pushed her several times, screamed at her, had become belligerent and distant. My son and I spent all of our time together talking, playing games, reading together. We were very close. I offered my friend advice that was laced with criticism about her son and his behavior. I was certain that my son would not behave that way as a teenager and I thought I knew exactly what she should do. Fast forward eight years and my son is a moody teenager that has, occasionally, yelled at me, He slams doors, stays in his room most of the time and rarely speaks to me. He's a good kid going through a rough time.
     A few years later I have a couple of friends that deal with anxiety and depression. While I have always tried to be supportive, send cards, call, check up on them, I've always been right there with the silly platitudes that I thought were so helpful, so spot on. I did not understand true depression and anxiety, I did not understand what it feels like inside. How you just can't stand being inside your own head anymore. How you try, you do, you surround yourself with "happy" things, you get up and try to do all the positive things that should make the days and nights better . .  but they don't. And then you discover how very alone you are in your depression and anxiety, and just how much those silly comments hurt, how they leave you alone in your darkness and throw in guilt for good measure. Mostly, I have found that not only have my friends left me in my darkness but they trivialize it. Oh, don't get me wrong, they are good women. But they make some truly devastating comments, as I did in the past.
     Tonight I sat here drinking tea, looking at the clock, praying for the sun to come up, that I could get through another long night. I had some of those "why me" moments. I thought about a Christian radio program I heard once. A woman remarked to her father that she found his ability to sympathize with his congregation was remarkable, and that she wished she could connect with others that way. She admitted that she often lost patience with people, could not step into their shoes and understand their pain. Then one day she became ill. She was, eventually, diagnosed with a terrible illness that would only grow worse as time went on. On the day of the radio broadcast she said that God had answered her request to be more like her father. She found that her ability to connect, her compassion for others, had grown. During my long night tonight I thought about that, and hoped that one day I could help others, that my struggles have a purpose. Because in this darkness I sometimes have such moments of clarity and I realize that my life is so pointless, that time is a heavy burden, that life is monotonous. No, those things are not true, but they feel so true when I'm on my knees and know that I can't hold on much longer.
     Every single day I read Matthew 11: 28-29. I'm so grateful that Jesus understood how tiring living can be. That everything can weigh you down so much that you can't move another step forward. I don't like to think about what happened to Jesus that gave Him such insight but I am so grateful He made a point to encourage us and give us hope, to do the one thing it seems no one else can do - sit in the dark with us so that we are not alone.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 

     The Great Physician, offering healing to broken souls.

First stop: Doubt. Population: Millions.

     When God delivered the Israelites from Egypt, He did so with what could be considered much pomp and circumstance. While it is hard to think of the word "miracle" when one considers the plagues that befell Egypt, they were just that - miracles. Signs and wonders. From the burning bush to the manna in the desert. God was performing incredible miracles for all to see. And yet, how did the Israelites respond? Each time circumstances turned difficult, they doubted. They railed against Moses. They wailed and cried and often wished to be back in Egypt, once again enslaved but comforted by the familiar. I can certainly sympathize, I'm not an adventurous person myself and the familiar is, indeed, safer than the unknown. But I have always puzzled over their doubt. How could they doubt? God brought plagues, parted a sea and allowed them to walk across the seafloor to safety, He provided a guiding pillar of smoke and another of fire, poured down food from heaven. . . ! I am certain I would never doubt God if He manifested such extraordinary miracles in my presence.
     Or would I? What is the nature of a miracle? Is the word "miracle" not defined as an extraordinary act of divine intervention?

An extraordinary act of divine intervention.

     Does a miracle have to be as awesome as the parting of a sea for us to count it as such? Or can a miracle be . . . quieter? Certainly just as awe inspiring but on a smaller scale. A kind stranger when you were at the end of your rope. Twenty dollars pressed into your palm by someone that whispered "God wanted me to share this with you" without realizing you couldn't feed your children that day. A call, out of the blue, from a friend when you need someone the most. We tend not to think of such things as miracles. Some even might call them coincidences. But make no mistake - they are, indeed, extraordinary acts of divine intervention - and at the time we usually recognize them as such. But, like the Israelites, we often forget those gloriously intimate moments with God and allow doubt to take root again.
     While reading Exodus recently, I realized that I, too, doubt God even in the face of wondrous miracles. Divorced, caring for two children alone, struggling with Lupus, my daughter's severe disabilities, and financial difficulties, I have met God many times in both friends and strangers alike. And yet, when the next crisis occurs, I doubt. How can I possibly look at the Israelites with incredulity when I am no different? Does it matter that paying the rent isn't as "showy" a miracle as parting a sea? Because despite the fact that it was not a miracle to garner worldwide attention, being gifted with the money to pay my rent was still an extraordinary act of divine intervention. A miracle I prayed for most fervently and a miracle that God delivered, among many others. Some of those miracles I have forgotten. Isn't that terrible? Moments that God made it clear that He was right there, by my side, actively working in my life, and I've forgotten many of them. Life moved on and those "ordinary" miracles were forgotten in the overwhelming worry of the next difficulty.
     Aren't we lucky Moses took the time to commit to paper the many miracles God performed for the Israelites? Imagine those events occurring now and Moses authoring a blog:

'Yesterday God parted the Red Sea so that we could walk to safety. It was an extraordinary feat, a glorious example of the power and majesty of our God. Today the people look out at the desert before us and think maybe they should have stayed in Egypt. God, give me patience!'

     Perhaps the Israelites would have been a little less doubtful if they had the chance to read daily summaries of their activities, realizing that God always saved them. But, somehow, I doubt it. After all, I have the entire Bible of miracles as well as the experience of miracles in my own life and still I doubt. I worry. I become consumed with anxiety and fear. I forget miracles.
     Luckily, God does not. He does not forget that we are human and fallible. He does not forget that He loves us and has gone to great lengths to save us - usually from ourselves - time and again. Rather, He walks patiently with us, working miracles and weaving them into the tapestry of our lives so effortlessly that they appear as common occurrences to us, appreciated in the moment but quickly forgotten. It would seem that little has changed since the time of Moses.
     I'd like to conclude with some suggestion, some divinely inspired gem of wisdom that will take away all of your doubts, fears, and mine, but I have none. I am not, after all, Solomon. I probably would have asked for wealth, or beauty, or the love of a particular someone. If I'd had a little time to ponder maybe even calorie free chocolate. But not wisdom. And so I will leave you with this: GOD HAS YOUR BACK. Write that down somewhere because you are going to forget it soon. And you know what? God will have your back anyway. And that, dear reader, is the most extraordinary act of divine intervention of all.