Let’s Talk About The P Word?

How you pray, why you pray, who you pray to might be different from me. Yet I bet if you think about prayers as cries to surrender, you’ll see, you and I both pray each and every day.

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I’ve been praying since as early as I can remember.

When asked to write about when I used prayer for a personal obstacle, I didn’t know where to begin. Do I talk about all the prayers I had to recite as a child?

Or the memories of grandma reinforcing the proper way to pray? On your knees. Head bowed. Hands pressed together. No slouching.

What about all the praying and begging I did for a little sister, only to end up with three brothers? It took almost 25 years to admit how much I actually adore them.

Do I write about my teenage prayers pleading for a different body, to be thinner and fit in with the other girls?

How about the prayers for the test I was about to take? After my late-night chat session, the only hope in passing was with a little help from above. (BTW, praying for the test I didn’t study for were never answered as I wanted)

These aren’t the examples you’re looking for. You want to read about something more profound and prolific.

What about the unanswered prayer that propelled my career to take a completely different path?

No, I should probably write about the life-altering prayer my husband and I prayed in 2007. Perhaps the only prayer we said together during the first two years of marriage.

Our prayer to move back home to Louisiana, to be near family as we raised our one-year-old daughter.

What followed that prayer can only be explained by believing someone had heard our plea and needed our attention.

The prayer prior to me rushing my 30-year-old spouse to the ER because he’d fallen down and was barely able move his legs.

We certainly didn’t pray for Guillain Barre, but that ‘s what was delivered.

Five days after the initial diagnosis, the doctor said, “Good news! You’re not getting worse. The treatment is working. We expect you to go home in a few days.”

The prayer that had my cautious, planning out every detail of the future partner, turn to me and say,

“We’re quitting our jobs and moving back home by family.”

And that’s just what we did.

Twelve years later, that prayer is still showing it’s power, mercy, and grace.

Reminding us that when fear and uncertainty start to creep in, someone else is in control.

I don’t want to bore you with the ways or reasons I pray. Instead, I’m sharing what my prayers are; even if you don’t pray, I think we all surrender our souls in a similar way.

What are prayers?

Prayers are cries.

Cries for help.

Cries for strength.

Cries when feeling confused about where to go next.

Cries for joy.

Cries for gratitude.

Cries for answered prayers.

Cries for unanswered pleas.

Cries in awe and wonder for what He’s delivered, how He’s transformed the pain into something more perfect we could ever imagine.

Prayers are a form of surrender.

After years of trying to fix and control, mend and mold things for how I want them to be, I’ve learned that surrendering, asking for help, learning to listen and trust, brings me to the place I’m supposed to be.

Prayers are my words used to talk with my God, asking for the strength, wisdom, and guidance for the next right step.

Prayers are how I thank my God for all He had done and given to me.

Prayers are where I find my peace as I surrender my desire for power to the one who made me.

How you pray, why you pray, who you pray to might be different from me. Yet I bet if you think about prayers as cries to surrender, you’ll see, you and I both pray each and every day.

I have a hunch that we all pray in our own way.

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