The Power of Prayer

I wrote this post out by hand last night (Yes, CG - I used my new Sharpie pen and Yes, it is magnificent!). I wanted to log on and write a post, but ended up fighting a headache at bedtime (that is a completely normal occurrence around here with boys who seem to keenly understand that I am waiting for their weary bodies to hit dreamland so that my weary body can hit cyberland and lasso a few moments for myself). MS begged me to lie with him and I fell asleep. I awoke at midnight and went to wash up the dishes and finish a load of laundry. Just before I shut down the computer, I decided to check my e-mail.

I quickly read an update from my mom concerning my sister-in-law, who is fighting a physical battle in the hospital. I noticed an update from Team Larson, but thought, "maybe I'm not ready to read that yet." Instead I opened up another CarePages update and read the news of Coleman on that site. Coleman's physical battle is over. Caden, Scott and Peggy's emotional battle has shifted to a new field. How I ache for and with them!

Before I could head to Coleman's page, my Internet connection broke off. My mind held a blur of thoughts, despite the lingering headache. This is how I used to do things - with pen and paper at night, wringing out all the emotional intensities and tornadoes of thoughts, so that I could sleep unencumbered.

Although a large part of last night's emotional storm included waves of grief and sympathy, it also swirled around the concept of the power of prayer. Yesterday, just after listening to a phone message from my mom explaining that Miriam was in the hospital, I read an update which my brother Tim had posted on Amelia's Caringbridge page. Tim requested prayer for Miriam and my brother David and family. He emphasized his strong belief in "the power of prayer."

Indeed, I prayed for Miriam throughout the day yesterday. Mixed in with the prayers, were many comments of gratitude to God for the blessings Miriam has added to my life over the years.

I ended up digging out the bag of letters I had retrieved from storage at my in-laws' house last year. These were the letters that helped to keep me afloat during my lonely senior year in high school, when my parents had moved from Chicago to Sioux Falls, SD. Several of those letters were from Miriam.

In one letter, she encouraged me to hang in there because the following year I would be going off to college as she had done that year. She shared the freedoms and challenges of college. She wrote, "It's really great and I'm learning to trust in the Lord every day. I can't do it by myself. Only He knows what the future holds for me."

She closed her letter with the following poem:

Life's Little Tests

We don't need the courage to face life's big tests.
What we need is courage to meet life's little tests.
What we need is the courage to follow a regular routine,
the courage to stick to our plans,
the courage to keep the petty irritations of the day from blocking our efforts,
the courage to keep on going hour after hour.
We need to remember that it isn't the big trees
that trip us up as we walk through the forest,
but the vines on the ground, the exposed roots, the low underbrush.

by: Clay Hamlin

I know the poem was a tremendous encouragement because the loneliness I faced in that period of my life was really one of life's little tests. It was not a major battlefield, but it still demanded courage.

As I read of Coleman's passing, I began to think again about the power of prayer. Just the other night, when ES couldn't sleep, I asked him to pray for Coleman. I added, "Pray for Caden, too. He's only 5 and his parents are trying to prepare him for this big loss."

ES has asked me why I follow the CarePages of families I don't even know. As I felt the tug of grief over Coleman's outcome, I was tempted to wonder the same thing. Thousands of individuals have been praying for Coleman. Thousands like me are grieving his loss and asking God to carry his family through this difficult time.

Of course, those thoughts led to other streams of thought: The thought ... "I'm just one among thousands who have been beating on heaven's door begging for a miracle." The thought of the Scripture, "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much!" (James 5:16b) The thought, "I'm not righteous enough. Other prayer warriors have availed more than me." And, "Were our prayers for nought?"

Then ... hang on! I AM a prayer warrior. Wait a minute. I'm a prayer warrior? I've never really considered myself a prayer warrior. That is not to say that I haven't functioned as one. In fact, for years, I would wake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and if I wasn't frantically writing, I was kneeling by my child or my husband, praying over the battles we were engaged in. But I prayed fervently for my own pressing needs and concerns.

I began to recognize a shift in my spiritual situation. I have noted before that my relationship with God is not as strong or clear as it used to be. Going to church has often been more painful than uplifting. Many a Sunday, I would be surrounded by praising worshippers and my heart would be screaming, "Where are you, God? Why aren't you fighting this battle for me? Why am I losing ground instead of gaining ground." (I had claimed the verse in II Chronicles 20:17 which states that the battle is the Lord's.) I noticed the wounds of my present situation and misinterpreted the outcome of the battle.

It is interesting that God has brought to fruition many of the changes I begged for in my marriage, yet that doesn't make me feel closer to Him yet. I still feel like a naughty child out in the hallway, doing a time out. Sometimes, I still question whether or not God truly loves me.

However, the shift in prayer focus drives home a new truth. I may not be able to feel closeness with God in Sunday worship or in quiet times. I still may not be ready to review the real losses and victories in my personal situations. But, I have grown a new found closeness to the Lord in these petitions for the families of Coleman, Julian, Nicholas, Janae, etc.

As in the assessment of my own battles, it would be easy to look at Coleman's death and feel defeated. To wonder if our prayers did indeed avail much, when the outcome brings such pain. Yet, I'm thinking anew about the power of prayer.

In my lonely senior year, the fervent prayers of my family and friends helped to carry me. In my lonely isolation of our lives here in Indiana, my prayers for others are carrying them. Praise be to God, they are carrying me as well!

I wish that no families faced the loss of their vibrant young child to the ravages of cancer. I wish that we could be spared the grief and heartache. I wish that we could be free of the burdens of illness and sin and suffering. But, I thank God for the ability to access Him in prayer. I thank Him for hearing our screams and being patient with our limited understanding of these battlefields and their outcomes.

I continue to cling to the power of prayer. I continue to hold His hand in the dark tunnels, praying that He will get us safely to the other side. And when I get to "the other side" which is eternity, I intend to toss Coleman in the air and thank him for being "Turious Toleman" and for being a part of my life and for offering me a chance to experience the power of prayer.