Recording Prayers for Others

Many years ago I attended a program given by a group of women at the church I attended. Part of the evening involved making a small, 4" x 4", booklet to record the names of persons for whom we prayed. We decorated the front of the construction paper book with flower stickers, protecting the cover by a layer of contact paper.

Finally having a means to organize my prayer life, I could discard the small pieces of paper where I wrote joys and concerns for those about whom I cared.

On the first few pages, I wrote the names of family and friends, praying for them daily, as well as myself. Leaving a space between each name allowed me to add  thoughts about each one. Further into the book I added people whose needs or celebrations arose over time or whose circumstances were short-term. World events and leaders also found a spot on the pages.

Having a little book to keep close to my Bible greatly assisted the consistency of my prayer life, gave me a diary or record, and showed ways that God entered a person's life.

Although long ago I "outgrew" the little green book I made in 1981, I've always used paper and pencil to record prayer.

When Sarah and Anna left home, I wanted to record daily needs and joys they shared with me while they attended college and eventually secured jobs. Keeping a log of their prayer requests helped me stay connected with what was happening in their lives.

The beginning of each new year was a meaningful time for me to chronicle my prayers for these dear children. Using an index card for each daughter, I wrote the year and their initials on the first line, and began the series of dates and recorded entries on the left.

Most of the time, I wrote a few words each day based on what they shared with me during a phone conversation or text. Occasionally during the year, I ask them how they want me to pray.

When they return home following their Christmas visit to Indiana, I compile all of the index cards, which by the end of the year can number ten or eleven. I write a letter affirming who they are as young women making a difference in the world professionally, proclaiming my love for them, and offering encouragement in the new year. I fold the letter around the cards, enclose five dollars for coffee, their favorite treat, and mail in early January.

Caring for people through prayer helps me feel connected to them in times of joy and during moments when life is difficult. Recording how I pray for people keeps my prayer life organized and reminds me of a group of dear church ladies who decades ago guided me.

The Kingdom of God is like ....... Meijer, Color, Comfort

When I reached the entrance to Meijer dodging raindrops and splashing my canvas shoes into puddles, I experienced relief. Shaking the rain off my umbrella in the side entrance, I found one of those half carts to push. Folding my soaked umbrella into the basket I collected my frazzled brain to recall what I needed.

"I like your umbrella," a voice said behind me. "The color is comforting.
I turned around and saw an elderly woman, the Meijer greeter, wearing a bright red vest. She looked tired and steadied herself against the pole corralling all of the shopping carts.

"Oh, thank you," I replied, astonished my cheap, teal-colored umbrella brought comfort to a weary soul.

Color has a way of invoking responses, as this kind lady demonstrated. Sometimes when I cannot find words to express what I am feeling, I turn to the small box of Crayola paints resting on my windowsill. I find a color or colors that connect with my heart and start painting strips on a piece of white paper.

Elizabeth Myer Boulton, a pastor and wife of the president of Christian Theological Seminary, wrote the following called "Ode to Yellow":

"Sometimes I find it hard to pray. I know that may sound odd coming from a pastor, but it's true. If Jesus were standing beside me, one of the first questions I would ask is, 'Lord, teach us how to pray,'
(Luke 11:1-4)

In my imagination, Jesus answers that request with something like this: 'One way to go about praying, my dear, is to focus in on a particular color to carry with you for the day or for the week. Pray through that color. Pick one and pray through it.'

So, my color today is yellow. I will learn to pray through the color yellow. I will give thanks to God for the bright yellow rays of the sun. I will say a special prayer for the Haitian man driving the yellow taxi cab going down the street. I will pray for the woman on the park bench wearing a yellow hat.

Today, every time I see the color yellow, I will lift up a prayer of healing, of comfort, of protection, of thanksgiving for a God who teaches us how to pray."

Perhaps the Meijer greeter was praying through teal or maybe in the moment I walked into the store, she was sad or lonely or dealing with a circumstance where her heart was hurting.

As I walked up and down the aisle choosing groceries, I carried her words with me, reflecting how walking into Meijer on a rainy day, with my five dollar umbrella, brought her comfort. The kingdom of God is like this ....unsuspecting connection serendipitously.

Prayer: God, we never know how we can be a vessel of your love as we run errands, going through stores and libraries and the post office. Use us as you will to bring the message of love wherever we go. Amen.

My Favorite Books

On my sixth birthday, my father brought home a gift from one of his co-workers whom I never met or even knew by name. The gift, the first book I ever received was called Now We Are Six by the British author A. A. Milne. Captivated by this collection of poems with unusual words and rhymes, I discovered the joy of owning a book that I could read whenever I wanted.

Reading was not a priority in my home. I never saw my parents read a book. My mother read the newspaper each day, but considered reading for pleasure a waste of time. My father spent his free time building projects out of wood or tackling a steady stream of home repairs.

As a result of the lack of interest in reading in my home, I didn't go to the public library until I was thirteen. Only then, when I checked out the six books maximum, did I begin to discover worlds and adventures beyond the walls where I lived.

Checking out books ensured a return trip to the library in two weeks, when I got to choose six more. The cycle continued throughout the summer, ending when school began. For some reason, the summer I was thirteen was the only period of time I went regularly to the library.

Since I didn't receive an allowance, I had to wait until I was in high school to start babysitting to earn money. The hourly rate for teenage childcare in 1965 and 1966 was fifty cents. I didn't babysit regularly so saving enough to purchase a few books took several months. Finally, I went to the bookstore and bought three paperback titles.

The Diary of Anne Frank (35 cents), A Tree Grows In Brooklyn (The price was worn through age.) by Betty Smith and To Kill A Mockingbird (60 cents) by Harper Lee were my first purchases. I still treasure these books that rest on my bookcase not only for their literary value, but also for the way I identified with the main character.

Each book involved a young girl in circumstances that were less than ideal, just like I was experiencing. Anne Frank began writing her diary when she was thirteen, chronicling her thoughts while she and her family hid from the Nazis.

Scout Finch (To Kill A Mockingbird) lived in a motherless home with her father and brother. Scout, who ages from six to nine in the book, noted events living in the South with her lawyer father, who defended an African American man.

Francie Nolan's father was an alcoholic (A Tree Grows In Brooklyn). She describes the nature of her home life living in the Williamsburg slums of Brooklyn with her parents and brother.

Reading these books over and over and identifying with these resilient girls, offered strength and encouragement as I, too, lived in a chaotic, dysfunctional home. Escaping to the worlds each girl inhabited provided companionship and friendship as close as the small desk where I stacked the books.

Last year I re-read the Diary of Anne Frank and marveled at the wisdom she possessed and the depths of her soul. Reading Anne's words fifty years later brought renewed inspiration. These three books remain a cherished part of my life like long-time friends or a doting family member.

What was the first book you received? What was the first book you purchased?

Prayer: God, thank you for the ways you provide community through words and stories that are secular, but come from the hands of writers whose skills you have created and blessed. You work in many ways to reach those who celebrate and suffer. Amen.

Extravagant Compassion

Jesus modeled compassion as he traveled through towns and villages caring intentionally for those others regarded as less than or as we might say today "on the fringe." He healed the woman who was unclean from years of hemorrhaging, the man possessed by demons, and the man sitting by the pool at Bethsaida. He ate with tax collectors, fed a crowd of people with a myriad of needs, reached out to lepers and healed those handicapped.

What does compassion mean? Dictionary.com defines compassion as "a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering."

Recently I was thinking of my early experiences with compassion and wrote the following definition based on those moments:  compassion is an awakening of tender places in the heart where love for others is birthed.

Although I did not grow up in a home where compassion was demonstrated, God was able to penetrate through the darkness in my life and awaken my heart to others. Here are two stories that occurred when I was seven and eight years old where I felt compassion stir my heart.

Two little girls, Kathy and Judy, were our next door neighbors. Kathy, the oldest, had learning and speech delays. She was my age, but her functioning was more appropriate for a three-year-old. I quickly learned the patterns of her speech and language. Sounds were distorted and sentences were incomplete. Kathy and Judy joined my brother and me as we played in the sandbox next to our house. We made bridges, roads, pancakes and smoothed the sand over and over with our hands. Kathy usually sat on one of the sandbox corner benches playing with her doll, observing.

One day she kept saying, "Capy on. Capy on."

None of us understood what she was saying until I watched her and realized she was trying to put a cap on her doll's head. During the years we lived next door to Judy and Kathy we shared many similar moments. I felt my heart expanding with compassion for the child who was my age twin, but many years younger developmentally.

One of the fellow students in my fourth grade class was Ruth Loop. Ruth was tall and slender with straight black hair, bangs and an olive complexion. Ruth stood out because her left arm ended at the elbow. No one knew if her handicap was the result of an accident or a birth defect. Ruth always had a sad expression on her face. I never saw her smile.

Ruth didn't let her short arm keep her from participating in playground activities like hopscotch and jump rope. Although Ruth couldn't hold two ropes for double-dutch, we girls let her jump anyway. Playground compassion was evident in the way everyone treated Ruth, wanting her to be included in all activities.

Recalling these stories of compassion reminds me of God's power to work in all circumstances. We are told nothing can separate us from God's love. Even an unloving home could not prevent God from entering my heart and stirring compassion that has followed me through decades.

How do you define compassion?

What are your earliest memories of compassion in your life?

Prayer: Every day, God, you bring us men, women and children who are "on the fringe", of life in some way. Guide our hearts with extravagant compassion as you modeled to respond to their needs with acceptance and love, reflecting the compassionate heart of Jesus. Amen.

Peter, Paul and Mary ........and Jesus!

Last November 5, I listened to NPR's Diane Rehm interview Peter and Paul, the surviving members of the popular sixties trio, Peter, Paul and Mary. The occasion for their appearance was to introduce the release of their book, Peter, Paul and Mary: Fifty Years in Music and Life.

Peter, Paul and Mary were one of my favorite vocalists when I was a teenager. The lyrics of their songs were simple, the tunes catchy, and I often sang their music when I walked to school or hummed in the classroom. Their unique style opened the way for new forms of vocal expression leading to the Beatles.

Diane asked a lot of questions. I learned Paul's first name is Noel, his middle name, Paul. Mary died in 2009, but Peter and Paul continue to perform. Paul remarked that those who hear them sense Mary's spirit as they present concerts all over the country.

Peter and Paul spent time remembering Mary and their relationship through the years. Paul explained that when Mary visited a friend she never said good-bye, but "to be continued".

To be continued means something will go on. Mary and her friends continued in friendship even though they weren't in close proximity.

Jesus gathered his disciples in an upper room and shared a meal of bread and wine we now call the Last Supper. Jesus showed the disciples a piece of bread and said, "This is my body." Then Jesus gave the disciples a drink of wine from a cup he held. "This is my blood."

Jesus wanted the disciples to have tangible ways and a ritual to remember him and his ministry that would continue throughout time. The Last Supper or Holy Communion as we now call the meal is a way for Jesus to say, "I am not saying good-bye. My life will continue in resurrection and we will meet again."

Mary realized that even though she may not see a friend for a while, she was not saying good-bye at the last encounter, but "to be continued" until they were together again. "To be continued" carries an excitement and expectation of new conversations and encounters where "good-bye" has an element of finality.

Jesus wants us who believe in him and who partake of communion to remember he, too, did not say "good-bye", but "my life continues in your life until we meet again. Bread and wine, symbols of my body and blood, will empower you as you continue my ministry wherever you go and with whom you meet."

We did not say "good-bye" to Jesus at the cross, but "to be continued" when we receive communion and serve in the kingdom.

Are there friends to whom you say good-bye when you depart?

Are there friends to whom you could say "to be continued" as you leave?

How can you offer to continue Jesus' ministry?

Prayer: God, the cross did not mean "good-bye" for your son despite what seemed obvious as Jesus was placed in the tomb. Resurrection means "to be continued" as we receive the love of Jesus in our hearts and serve in the kingdom. Amen.

Simultaneously Light and Dark

We recently flew to Portland, Oregon, to help Anna celebrate her thirtieth birthday. On the return leg of our trip from Denver to Indianapolis, we departed at 6 p.m. We flew in light for most of the way however, about an hour from landing, I looked out the window and noticed darkness below.

I was in an interesting place, 30,000 feet above ground with darkness below, simultaneously seeing light from the sun above. Remembering times of darkness in  my life, I knew that despite what I was going through I would eventually see a breakthrough to light. Light was hovering above the darkness like I witnessed in the airplane; I just couldn't see it or feel it.

I am reminded of John's words about light and darkness at the beginning of his gospel.

John 1:5 - The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.

John is saying that whatever darkness we experience in life - our own sin, loss, challenging circumstances, impaired relationships -it is not strong enough to block or extinguish the light of Jesus, the source of light, love, strength, encouragement or whatever we need to get through what life presents.

Shortly before we landed the pilot came over the loud speaker and said, "We are preparing for our final descent before landing."

As the plane got closer to the ground, darkness gradually engulfed the cabin. However, when I looked out the window one more time, I could still see light - the always present upper layer of darkness. I saw metaphorically the words of John 1:5. My experience holding darkness and light simultaneously will serve as a reminder and encouragement that no matter what I am experiencing, the light of God is there, too.

Prayer: God, thank you for moments when we see and realize your truths through moments in your kingdom. You paint pictures to illustrate scripture giving us an image to carry and remind us always of our presence. Amen.

The Healing Power of Cards

Not everyone has kind and loving relationships with his/her parents. I sure didn't so when mine died four days apart in January, 2013, I entered a time of confusion, anger, frustration and injustice. Their passing left me with unanswered questions, and permanently eliminated the possibility of reconciliation or even acknowledgement of poor treatment during childhood and adolescence.

The first year after their deaths found me searching for books and people who could help me make sense of the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. People skilled in the area of grief were at a loss to help. I didn't fit into the categories described in books on grief so with continuing anger and frustration, I tore each book, page-by-page throwing the paper in a trash can.

One day, four months after they died, I noticed the stack of over 100 sympathy cards I received. For several weeks, I couldn't look at the cards because I thought they were all about my parents. However, that day I realized the cards were not about my parents. They were for me! All of the love and compassionate thoughts expressed by the words printed on the card and words people wrote were waiting and available for me to receive.

The cards became my gateway to healing as I began to interact and respond to each one.

1. I cut out phrases on the cards that did not match my life, such as 'beloved mother', 'beloved father', 'happy memories'. Most people did not realize the nature of the relationship I shared with my parents. I received with deepest gratitude the loving thoughts they wrote, but some phrases that did not apply to my life with them I had to remove and set aside.

2. Writing letters to people who sent cards even though more than six months had gone by was the beginning of clarity and response. Although I didn't mail the letters, writing gratitude loosened my inner confusion and helped me connect with those whose thoughtfulness I wanted to acknowledge.

3. Looking at the cards over and over became a 'funeral home visitation'. Their passing and services during the week prevented my friends from coming. Each time I looked at the cards I received love and compassion from those who took time to send a note of condolence.

4. As the first anniversary of their passing approached, my art teacher suggested I tear the cards into pieces and make paper. Seven sheets of paper emerged from an afternoon project of paper-making. I took the leftover pieces of paper, and spread them on cookie sheets to dry.

5. Interacting with the leftover pieces brought new levels of dealing with my past. I took words on the pieces and made 'found poems'. Found poems are made from words selected from printed material such as newspapers, signs, or in my case, cards. For example, one of my found poems follows:

            Someone will keep your troubled heart,
            Holding it close, with peace coming during a difficult time.
            Words are inadequate to express concern and sympathy,
            When deepest comfort is needed for the heart.
            Jesus reminds us, 'I give you peace. Let not your heart be troubled.'

6. I pieced a small quilt using some of the leftover pieces which held words of love, signatures and parts of pictures.

7. Scattering the tiniest pieces of  card paper over snow in my backyard helped me release resurfacing anger.

Interacting with the cards occurred over several months. God brought life, opportunities for growth, understanding, acceptance, forgiveness and gratitude replacing anger, confusion and frustration which had been part of my life since childhood.

Celebrating how God worked through a stack of sympathy cards sent by persons who loved and cared for me and my family, cleansed my heart, brought refreshment to my soul, and gave me long-sought peace.

God indeed can use simple objects to bring integration. We read in the New Testament how Jesus explained the kingdom of God using common objects such as seeds, yeast, a mustard seed, weeds and a pearl. I can add another parable to the list - The kingdom of God is like a stack of sympathy cards - when torn apart and used for art and writing projects, woven with God's presence, they can restore a soul and release a heart from years of suffering.