I don't pray. I don't know what to say, what words to use, who's listening. I sometimes talk to my departed dad and ask for guidance and strength, as well as any influence he may have in making things in the universe work out the way they should. This is about as close as I get to praying. It works for me. And perhaps some would say that was real praying. And perhaps they would be right. I really don't know.
Tonight, someone wanted to pray with me. She was a person of Christian faith, close to me, and who knows me and loves me. I agreed.
She took my hands in hers, started talking to God and asking NOT for things to be perfect, NOT for the RIGHT outcome, NOT for what I would specifically want, but something else entirely. As we were holding hands, she asked God to allow me to be STILL so that I could be open to receiving the message He was trying to send me. Of course, she didn't know what message that was, I certainly didn't, but nonetheless the words were effortless for her. Not just effortless, but flowing and stunning and gorgeously graceful. What enthralled me in her delivery of this prayer was her complete belief, one hundred percent faith, that it would work. She glowed as she was praying (I know prayer protocol requires that my eyes be kept shut in prayer but I couldn't help myself but look at her, plus I'm a horrible rule follower).
As she was talking (praying), I found myself welling up. At first, I felt a tingle and an energy go up my spine. And then the flood gates opened and tears flowed and I lost it. I don't know what that was about, why it hit me the way it did.... It was a guttural response on some level that I cannot explain.
Whatever overtook me at that moment, I want to honor. I don't know what it was. But it was something important.
I think I need to be STILL, to figure it out. And dad, if you're here, help me out.
Your loving daughter,
Michey
