The things that matter to us, matter to Him. I know it. Things as mundane as naps, med school applications, lost car keys, world peace. You name it, He is on it. It's how he shows us he loves us. As I was reading a book gifted from a friend recently, there was an essay that's truth kicked me in the gut when I read it. "Why am I so amazed? Why do I pray if I don't really believe God will answer?"
It's the silent prayers that get me. The ones we don't even realize we're praying. The hopes/dreams/wishes we hold as a constant prayer in our heart- sometimes for months, even years. When those are answered, it can take your breath away. Then there are the prayers of others on our behalf. Those prayers when answered make your heart hurt with happy and grateful. Happy and grateful that you've got people like that around.
***
The day I went on maternity leave was an unplanned three weeks early. Being on the other side of it now, I realize I was in the early stages of labor. When I called my midwives to describe what I was feeling I was nervous. I was two days shy of 36 weeks. Had I gone into labor that day I would have been headed for the hospital. I called work just sure my boss was going to shoot me. My current "Supervisor" was the nurse that oriented me to Home Health. She was among the first people I told we were expecting Scrunch and that we were expecting Porkchop. She is technically my boss, but she's also my friend. When I told her what was going on she said, "As of today you are on maternity leave."
Then she caught me off guard.
"Can I pray for you?"
"Nancy, of course you can pray for me."
"Right now. On the phone."
"Um. Okay."
In my faith, we are more formal about prayers and how we go about it. I'm so glad there are those that aren't. Nancy began to pray right there on the phone. I laugh to think about the fact that I missed overhearing that phone call. My cubicle is right next to her office and I get to hear most of her phone calls. I'd have died and given her a hard time for weeks had I caught her praying on the phone to someone. But this time it was for me and I wasn't sitting in the office. I was sitting on my bed when she called upon the angels to bless my family.
"Please Lord. Let him cook."
She continued. "Yannette, Kensley and what's your husband's name again? Oh, well. You know who I'm talking about have waited a long time for this baby. Just let him cook. Oh yeah, John. Let him cook for as long as possible... We know this is a miracle...we're excited that he's coming, but let him cook. Please Lord let this baby cook until it's his time to come. Thank you. Amen."
At the time, I was kind of miserable. I only needed to make it two more days and she was sounding like she wanted me to stay pregnant forever. "Let him cook!" she said. And I went another four weeks. Babies are born at 36 weeks quite often and without complications, but had my baby been born that day things would likely have been very different for us.
***
The actual day I went into labor I woke up with contractions. Big whoop. I'd been having them off and on for days. But this time it was different. I called up the Midwives to give them a heads up and then we went for a walk. Everyone and their mother's Golden Retriever are out in our neighborhood on Sunday mornings. And they all feel the need to wave and say "hi". Usually I love that about our neighborhood, but that morning not so much. "Please for the love! Don't talk to me."
Late pregnancy had given me the ability to hear people's thoughts and for every person I walked by I could hear them thinking, "Whoa! Nelly!"
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."
As we came up the main road headed home we walked past a neighbor I'd never seen before. Our neighborhood lacks ethnic and racial diversity diversity, but here stood a very tall, very noticeable black man holding a Bible.
Bellowing from the top of his driveway, "You're gonna have a baby!"
In my head, "Duh. What gave that away? Was it me hunched over holding my thighs and breathing like a rhino through a contraction?"
"Good luck with that!" he hollered.
Gee, thanks.
As we got to the edge of his driveway he shouted, "Hey, come back here! I'd like to bless that baby!" And there at the end of his driveway with the next door and across the street neighbors watching he placed his hands on my belly and prayed over my baby and our family. I felt like the whole neighborhood heard him.
"Thank you Lord for this miracle. Bless this baby boy and his parents. Bless him that he will be strong. Bless his parents to be strong. Bless them to raise him up to You. Bless him to be strong."
What I thought was strange was that he kept blessing him over and over that he would be strong. Not the fact that it was completely out of nowhere and from a complete stranger. It just seemed kind of odd.
Early the next morning Erick was born. From the moment I saw him I knew our prayers had been answered.
The day I went on maternity leave was an unplanned three weeks early. Being on the other side of it now, I realize I was in the early stages of labor. When I called my midwives to describe what I was feeling I was nervous. I was two days shy of 36 weeks. Had I gone into labor that day I would have been headed for the hospital. I called work just sure my boss was going to shoot me. My current "Supervisor" was the nurse that oriented me to Home Health. She was among the first people I told we were expecting Scrunch and that we were expecting Porkchop. She is technically my boss, but she's also my friend. When I told her what was going on she said, "As of today you are on maternity leave."
Then she caught me off guard.
"Can I pray for you?"
"Nancy, of course you can pray for me."
"Right now. On the phone."
"Um. Okay."
In my faith, we are more formal about prayers and how we go about it. I'm so glad there are those that aren't. Nancy began to pray right there on the phone. I laugh to think about the fact that I missed overhearing that phone call. My cubicle is right next to her office and I get to hear most of her phone calls. I'd have died and given her a hard time for weeks had I caught her praying on the phone to someone. But this time it was for me and I wasn't sitting in the office. I was sitting on my bed when she called upon the angels to bless my family.
"Please Lord. Let him cook."
She continued. "Yannette, Kensley and what's your husband's name again? Oh, well. You know who I'm talking about have waited a long time for this baby. Just let him cook. Oh yeah, John. Let him cook for as long as possible... We know this is a miracle...we're excited that he's coming, but let him cook. Please Lord let this baby cook until it's his time to come. Thank you. Amen."
At the time, I was kind of miserable. I only needed to make it two more days and she was sounding like she wanted me to stay pregnant forever. "Let him cook!" she said. And I went another four weeks. Babies are born at 36 weeks quite often and without complications, but had my baby been born that day things would likely have been very different for us.
***
The actual day I went into labor I woke up with contractions. Big whoop. I'd been having them off and on for days. But this time it was different. I called up the Midwives to give them a heads up and then we went for a walk. Everyone and their mother's Golden Retriever are out in our neighborhood on Sunday mornings. And they all feel the need to wave and say "hi". Usually I love that about our neighborhood, but that morning not so much. "Please for the love! Don't talk to me."
Late pregnancy had given me the ability to hear people's thoughts and for every person I walked by I could hear them thinking, "Whoa! Nelly!"
"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."
As we came up the main road headed home we walked past a neighbor I'd never seen before. Our neighborhood lacks ethnic and racial diversity diversity, but here stood a very tall, very noticeable black man holding a Bible.
Bellowing from the top of his driveway, "You're gonna have a baby!"
In my head, "Duh. What gave that away? Was it me hunched over holding my thighs and breathing like a rhino through a contraction?"
"Good luck with that!" he hollered.
Gee, thanks.
As we got to the edge of his driveway he shouted, "Hey, come back here! I'd like to bless that baby!" And there at the end of his driveway with the next door and across the street neighbors watching he placed his hands on my belly and prayed over my baby and our family. I felt like the whole neighborhood heard him.
"Thank you Lord for this miracle. Bless this baby boy and his parents. Bless him that he will be strong. Bless his parents to be strong. Bless them to raise him up to You. Bless him to be strong."
What I thought was strange was that he kept blessing him over and over that he would be strong. Not the fact that it was completely out of nowhere and from a complete stranger. It just seemed kind of odd.
Early the next morning Erick was born. From the moment I saw him I knew our prayers had been answered.
1 comment:
Answers to prayers come from places we do not always expect. I need to read that tonight. Thank you!
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