Magical Mondays: The Power of Prayer
Since coming up with the idea for "Magical Mondays", I've had to work hard at figuring out where to start. There are so many things that I can think of to write about here, and one idea leads to another, many wonderful events are connected in a beautiful chain, so that I've been reeling trying to decide where to begin. Since this is the first one out of the gate, I decided to go with something simple.
From the time I was very young (around 3), I had a spiritual inclination that none of my family shared. I'm not even sure where or how it started, but it was there. Somehow, I learned about prayer and began doing it on my own very early on and now, some 40 years later, I can honestly say that I've never had a prayer go unanswered--no matter how large or small--even when the prayer wasn't formal, or even when I didn't know to what or whom I was praying.
As I'm typing, I'm flooded with images, big and small, of all the prayers that have been answered and am wondering which ones would be the best to write about. I've had major prayer answered, but I think my favorite, though, was a just a small one. It always touches me to remember it.
Several years ago, I lived next door to an elementary school. One day, I looked out the window and saw a little boy who looked to be about six or seven years old, standing far away from all the other children on the playground. He walked around by himself looking so sad, just watching while the other children played together. He was not well dressed, very overweight for his age, and not an attractive child; knowing how kids can be, it was easy to see he would have a hard time in school. My heart just broke for him. I watched for several minutes and no one spoke to him. Eventually, he walked away from the groups until he was at the side of the building, where he picked up a stick and started hitting it against the wall.
I kept hoping someone would notice him but they didn't, so I said a fervent prayer that someone would come and play with that him--give him just a few moments of happiness because he looked so sad. I heard the laundry buzzer go off and had to leave my spot at the window for a few minutes. When I came back, looked out again to check on him. He was now joined by another little boy and they were playing and laughing, and the look on his face was one of joy, as if he'd been given a wonderful gift.
It could be that it was his prayer that was answered that day; it could simply be that the second little boy was a good hearted soul (and I believe both those are true), but my prayer was also answered, and I'm still grateful that I saw a minor miracle take place. After all, any kindness is always a gift.
Since coming up with the idea for "Magical Mondays", I've had to work hard at figuring out where to start. There are so many things that I can think of to write about here, and one idea leads to another, many wonderful events are connected in a beautiful chain, so that I've been reeling trying to decide where to begin. Since this is the first one out of the gate, I decided to go with something simple.
From the time I was very young (around 3), I had a spiritual inclination that none of my family shared. I'm not even sure where or how it started, but it was there. Somehow, I learned about prayer and began doing it on my own very early on and now, some 40 years later, I can honestly say that I've never had a prayer go unanswered--no matter how large or small--even when the prayer wasn't formal, or even when I didn't know to what or whom I was praying.
As I'm typing, I'm flooded with images, big and small, of all the prayers that have been answered and am wondering which ones would be the best to write about. I've had major prayer answered, but I think my favorite, though, was a just a small one. It always touches me to remember it.
Several years ago, I lived next door to an elementary school. One day, I looked out the window and saw a little boy who looked to be about six or seven years old, standing far away from all the other children on the playground. He walked around by himself looking so sad, just watching while the other children played together. He was not well dressed, very overweight for his age, and not an attractive child; knowing how kids can be, it was easy to see he would have a hard time in school. My heart just broke for him. I watched for several minutes and no one spoke to him. Eventually, he walked away from the groups until he was at the side of the building, where he picked up a stick and started hitting it against the wall.
I kept hoping someone would notice him but they didn't, so I said a fervent prayer that someone would come and play with that him--give him just a few moments of happiness because he looked so sad. I heard the laundry buzzer go off and had to leave my spot at the window for a few minutes. When I came back, looked out again to check on him. He was now joined by another little boy and they were playing and laughing, and the look on his face was one of joy, as if he'd been given a wonderful gift.
It could be that it was his prayer that was answered that day; it could simply be that the second little boy was a good hearted soul (and I believe both those are true), but my prayer was also answered, and I'm still grateful that I saw a minor miracle take place. After all, any kindness is always a gift.
Kate, this is a terrific blog. I truly believe in prayer, but I can't think of any specific incidence that something happened so measurably right after my prayer. I love your story of the little boy. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Edie. It occurred to me last night that he must be about 21 now; the other boy too. I wonder how their lives have turned out...
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful idea and a wonderful story. And I love all your suggested days.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Michelle. I'm off from work today waiting for my boxes to arrive from AZ, and I think I may have to take the opportunity to "store up" some blogs for the other days. (Although, I did see some call for submissions at Samhain - short stories - so my mind is also teeming with ideas...) So hard to focus sometimes. :)
ReplyDeleteBeing an outsider can be a lonely thing. But as quickly as we tend to talk about the cruelty of children, just as quickly can we point to their resilience and willingness to accept others when left to themselves.
ReplyDeleteNice.
Thanks, Stewart. That's a very good point. :)
ReplyDelete