I Need Their Prayers

There are many days where my mind is thinking about a thousand different things.  I am foggy- with the attention span of a 4 year old.  When I sit down I zone out and my eyes glaze over—my body’s sad attempt to rest.  This comes with my job and I’m getting used to it.  But with my physical exhaustion comes an emotional and spiritual exhaustion as well.  Most days I do not have the energy to write or self-reflect or pray—all practices that center and balance me.  I have begun wondering how I have functioned so well without this for so long, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am constantly mislead by the belief that I am in total control.  And when something bad or stressful happens, I find myself crumbling to pieces and my perfect, controlled day takes a terrible turn.  So who is really in control?  And can I really do it on my own?

At the mission, we pray before every meal.  I always ask if anyone wants to volunteer to pray, and often a resident will do so.  I find it hard for myself to pray out loud, because I get nervous and self-conscious, and I’d much rather listen to someone else’s heart for a moment.  Today one of the residents prayed a long, deep prayer- one that truly reflected her relationship with God.  It was as if she were picking up on a conversation with Him that she had started earlier that day- it was not just a prayer from scratch but one that was being built on from thousands of previous conversations with the Lord. 

I stood there listening, as she prayed for the food briefly and then moved onto spiritual guidance and other things that had not crossed my mind at all that day.  The words she used sounded too comforting- words like “guidance and direction” and “peace” and “make our path straight”.  I was so relaxed by her words and I was so proud that our volunteers- who were expecting to come in after work, throw on an apron, serve for 30 minutes and be done- were caught captive to this long prayer. A prayer that lasted longer than a few moments and that didn’t revolve around the food or a memorized childhood blessing.

On the days when my mind is fuzzy and I’m feeling stressed, I let the residents pray for me in these times.  I let their words wash over me and nourish me and speak for me in ways that I cannot find the words to speak for myself.  I need their prayers because they are honest and I feel them coming from the depths of their soul, and they are speaking boldly with no one to impress and nothing to lose.  I need their prayers to be as raw and gritty and unpolished as dirt because that’s where my heart is too- it’s in a place of raw uncertainty and every day that I am alive I must make a choice to have faith in order to even be who I want to be.  I need their prayers like I need their help in the kitchen- I can’t do it alone and I rely on what they give to make it each day.  I need their prayers because I am humbled by their faith after facing many trials that I have not, and still going to God with hope.