I love to keep prayer journals. Most are for my eyes and heart only, but a few are different. There are times when I keep a journal of prayers for someone else. Nothing fancy, just a simple chronicling of my conversations to my God which are specific to a person.
One thing that I’m not very good at, but am working on, is actually asking for prayer. Even though I believe that prayer is powerful, and can change circumstances and lives – I have a hard time letting down my guard enough to share my own struggles. But that is changing.
God has recently opened the door for me to reconnect with an old friend. We hadn’t really seen each other in 10 years, until the beginning of August. Since then, it is almost as if we’d never stopped being friends.
Several weeks ago, during one late night conversation, she asked me if there was anything I needed. Without much hesitation I said, “I could really use prayer.” And I proceeded to pour out my heart. She listened, and didn’t say much.
Last weekend, she told me that she was sending a package to me. Seeing as I had just had a birthday, I didn’t really think much of it, and the only thing she said was, “It was something you asked for.” For the next several days I wracked my brain; thinking back over past conversations trying to figured out what ‘thing’ I had asked for. My efforts were fruitless, so I waited.
Yesterday, I received that package. I carefully opened it, and inside, neatly folded, was a hand-crocheted work of art. The card which was attached explained to me that it was a “Prayer Shawl.” My dear friend had asked a ministry in her church to lift my name up before the Father. The wonderful woman, who made it, did so with prayer upon her lips on my behalf. With each stich she prayed for me – a complete stranger. She prayed comfort and healing, strength for the journey, patience with the process, for peace and understanding, and hope for tomorrow; all of the things I feel like I’m seriously lacking.
When I was finally able to talk to my friend about the gift, she simple said this, “You asked for prayer a while back for friends, job and your knee. Thought I’d get you covered…literally.”
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As I ran my fingers across the stiches, I thought of my great-grandmother, Sarah (aka “Nan”), who first taught me how to crochet. Her arthritic, gnarled fingers were surprisingly nimble as she worked the needle and yarn. I would sit at her feet, leaned against the front of her chair clumsily fumbling with making a simple chain, while she would sit for hours on end, gracefully making something for someone: potholders, dishcloths, doylies, socks, and afghans. In honor of my Prayer Shawl creator, and in loving memory of “Nan” – I think I’ll make a shawl or blanket of my own to give away. Don’t worry…I got you covered!
