Tag: Windows

What happens when people pray

The day my mother walked out of her skin, she breathed once twice then her hand in mine grew cold, that day Eternity walked close in my narrow space. Was it co-incidence that rays streamed from a room ventilator to where she lay, her last breath so unlike death?

I wanted to grieve, but light stared down thru that ventilator and all I could do hear was the peace of our father, in heaven. My ma was not finished, she had just begun, this amazing woman I saw pray-

when I was little and prayed long prayers. people were afraid to ask me to pray. I trusted God with every detail. We had no secrets. No privacies. I remember them all choking with laughter as I asked the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob to walk thru our little house by the sea and bless bless everything… from packets of chicklet chewies sent by aunt Rosie from Bahrain &, asking Him to bless all of us even our panties, I said in fervent prayer on my 3 year old knees ..

Unsplash

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It is funny how a child can walk thru that wall between God and humanity, without shadows of doubts, but as I grew I was afraid- of those shadows, they – became a kind of god. Those shadows in the valley of defeat. They are neat I’m telling you- they are sweet- they are cool chill and teach us to be afraid. I was a child and now am grown. And I have seen us die everyday in all kinds of rooms. We have seen us pray all kinds of prayers.

Tenderly guide us‘ my mother would sing after she prayed -her voice quivering. I wondered why her voice did that quiver- every single time she prayed? Was she scared of Yahweh- was it something He said? Sometimes she’d go quiet as if listening in the silence to her God, as if He were saying secrets in her ears and she’d weep these tears…..they shone her face. she was crying not sad- these were tears you tear when theres things you cannot recover from.

These days when I pray I have no sensible words to ask . The wall between Him and me is a lesser mask, theres no stiff jaw rule no regulation but as the moment begins, I’m searching heaven ……in the quiet/ that begins when I open my soul there’s a silence. The silence of heaven- and something begins I have no words for but I will try… something asking me if I truly love him.

I say yes and He God of heaven, says if have love, then I will pray not for bags of rice and health of my children but for my 1.20 billion…..

yes! I tremble in reply but He isn’t stopping. In the silence He weeps and the sound of that is an ocean on its knees, in Gethesemane, for humanity. Come closer, He says. I look and see, calvary. I cannot move but He reaches within me/

His feet flowing crimson past nailed sins… ” it’s all for free-& hard to believe … I’ve paid your price; not just an Indian 1.20 billion but a planet full . Death has no victory nor the grave. Why are you all so afraid?” He asks, His eyes full of the tears- of heaven: Tears you tear when theres things you cannot recover from.

And I see what I never understood before –what happens when you pray. Like that time with my Ma…when

when heaven walked close in my narrow space. And light stares down in the face, of our valley of the shadow of doubt shhhl

in the silence screaming in our ear; not life nor disease nor hunger nor fear can stand

the most sacred request of all: the God of heaven asking us to pray for All His children…for each other. What can separate us from that kind of love? We can..

we who will not stop to pray for each other/ But Eternity walks close in these walls between us …..a space growing closer than e’er before. And I hear its deafening silence in my ear, won’t you stay awhile with me and pray?

It is a question I cannot recover from/ it is, a voice from heaven. My human selfish dark could ne’er produce that light streaming in from windows of heaven/ like that day my mother walked with Him who now looks in, at our lives -He’s asking in a silence we may be in….

Won’t you step out of your own skin & pray for another? Not in the distant future but Today….

Perspective

The ones looking at the painting, they are the Work of Art.

The Window turns about looking at Us. 👇
PiCredits Unsplash
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We are the Clay, our hands made by Hands that made the clay we do not originate.
Who are we? The little girl asks her mother in The New York Times: existential questions that needed to be asked long ago.
We are best when looking within, looking with some amount of discomfort. When Humans ever did something of value to the personal or global community, was when we bowed deep.
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P.S.

You’re seeing Ads here? They are not sponsored by me, except that I chose FreeWordpress which duh also cannot kill Ads. So. Apologies dear blogfriend.

What you see, sees you

Streets, people, trees, blossoms, faces, places, time, family,

What you see, sees you-

quieting thought that I can effect change, mood, laughter, peace…I am the music of my words, the harbinger of joy, yeah I can re arrange the furniture, heal, reveal a Well Spring of things and streams you & I own deep within, do we know, do I know

how wide I am created, to…..

Gaze.
DigiArt, RN
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…to bring all these gifts to a day like this…. do I, do we know.

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HERE For Heal, music.

HERE For Daily Devotional.

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Stay precious, stay blest.

@raylarn.