My Dad prayed with me today....

The first person I remember holding such an emotion as love towards was my father. I remember being a tiny little thing, standing at the back door, waving good-bye to my father as he took off in the car to go to work. Then, as soon as I saw him take off, I rushed as quickly to the front door as I could. That huge front door always caused me considerable trouble to open, as we always opened it with an old-fashioned skeleton key.



I'd yank at the huge, imposing door, and scream for my mother to open the door, because Daddy had to see me wave good-bye to him from the front door, as well. He must have been made aware of the herculean effort on my part to wave good-bye to him from both doors, because even though we lived on the corner of a road and an alley, and all he had to do was just drive a few hundred feet to turn left onto Main Street, I always seemed to beat him to door. I figured the faster I'd wave my hand, the more my Dad would know I loved him; sometimes I waved my hand so fast and hard, I was sure it was going to fly off!



It was the same thing with apples. My father would not be allowed to eat a single apple until I had taken it, breathed on it, and shined up that apple so bright that you honestly could see your face looking back at it. The shinier that apple, the more my daddy would know that I loved him. I seriously thought that if anyone in this world needed to know that someone loved him unconditionally, then, I was going to show that I loved him unconditionally, forever and ever.



There was always a vulnerability and sadness to my father. You see, I don't think he was ever truly accepted as a younger man. He happened to live in a small town, one of the sons of the town -- for lack of better word -- tramp. My paternal grandmother could put the lady at the well to shame in her actions towards the opposite sex. In a small town, people don't always look at a person for themselves; they judge you for your father and mother, your grandparents, etc. That does something to a person. He did not trust women, and refused to allow my mother to work outside of the home. It didn't stop him from having a roaming eye of his own; and even though my father didn't lose his temper that much, when he did, it was more than terrifying. I remember hiding behind the couch on more than one occasion. But again, I knew he was dealing with demons of his own that raged inside of him.



On the positive, my Dad taught me how to have fun. He was the one who would get out in the yard and play football with us -- or he'd make up his own games for us to play. He created stilts for each of us children -- the higher he'd get them, the better we'd like it. He was the king of snow fort making. I loved being on his team whenever we'd play anything. He looked just like -- and was as strong as -- Superman, to me. He'd go to the grocery store and "accidentally" lose the list. We'd beg Dad for Fudgcicles, and he'd buy a huge box of them. Then he'd pronounce, "Well, you know what we need to go along with Fudgcicles, don't you? Potato chips!" That would start a chain reaction of what all we "needed" to round out Dad's list of groceries. We'd arrive back home, junk food galore filling up the bags; poor Mom would get red in the face and yell, "Didn't you get ANYTHING of SUBSTANCE?!"



There are a few things Dad wouldn't do: he wouldn't got to church with us unless it was a super-special occasion, he didn't read the Bible with us, and he didn't pray. He also never said that he loved us until I was 16 years old; funny, that didn't matter as much to me, because I just KNEW that my Daddy loved me. I did ache to hear the Bible being read by our parents, and I longed to pray with my Dad. My mom prayed with us when there was big trouble afoot, but to pray just to speak with God was not something we did.



Today changed all of that. Today while my dad was in a hospital bed, I asked to pray with him. He did not want to, and hemmed and hawed about it. He's a private man, deep down, and becomes shy at the strangest moments. I guess it's like how I was a disc jockey and singer, yet still become very embarrassed if attention is drawn to me at a restaurant (i.e. birthdays are never happy for me when those people in the restaurant come up to me and sing those silly songs).

At any rate, I felt a need to pray with him before, but he gently rebuffed me. Last night, I felt strongly that I needed to pray with my father. I could feel his fear -- an emotion I never associated with my father -- when I prayed for him in the comfort of my home. Yes, I found out, he has been very anxious lately. So, today when I asked him, he stated that he couldn't pray out loud because he was very exhausted from his rehab session.

"That's okay, Poppa (ever since I've watched "Fiddler on the Roof" I've called my father "Poppa" quite often, as as I cannot sit through a showing of that movie without thinking of my aged father when I see the loving, bearded, handsome, hard-working, long-suffering Tevya). At this moment, I'm stronger. And like the geese, I'm going to call out and ask God to help until you're strong enough, okay?"

He acquiesced. I prayed and asked God to hold my father in the night. I asked my heavenly Father to remind my earthly father that He hasn't given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and a sound mind, and that we do not need to be anxious for anything. I asked for God to give my dad a peace that surpasses all understanding that will guard his heart and mind. And I thanked my heavenly Daddy for giving me the desire of my heart to pray with my Dad. Dad was choked up by the time we said, "Amen." I was teary-eyed, as well. I know that he knows I love him beyond measure. And no matter what tomorrow may bring, I will hold in my heart forever the wonderful memory that my Dad prayed with me today.

What's that noise?

If you read my blog or if you know me personally, then you know my father has been facing big health struggles. He has been touch and go on many occasion. Well, after the latest bout of trouble, where he was encountering bowel obstruction issues, I went to my friends -- and again -- asked for prayer. The past several months seem to be me squawking for prayer. At least, that's what it seemed like to me, when I allowed myself to hear that little voice in my head that said, "Do you know what your friends do every time you ask for prayer for the latest thing going on in your life? They inwardly GROAN; that's what they do. Give it a break, already, you needy thing!"

Well, instead of recognizing it for what it is, I apologized to everyone for asking for prayer yet AGAIN. I truly felt badly about it. I really thought I was bothering people. Then, another friend asked for prayer for HER father, and I got on it right away. I find that when someone asks me to pray, I consider it an honor to be able to intercede before our heavenly Father. That still didn't convince me that I wasn't a bother to someone else, though.

Today is when it hit me. You see, I love geese. I'm fascinated with their migratory patterns, the way they communicate with each other, their formation as they fly. And there they were flying over head -- a massive amount of geese. Let's say I heard them before I saw them. Boy, are they loud! But boy, do they know how to communicate! While flying in their patterns, they are always communicating. They are constantly watching out for the weaker geese. They fly in the pattern they do so that the strongest are flying at the front, breaking the force of the wind for their comrades. The weakest and the oldest fly in the rear, where the wind resistance is least. As the geese in the front get tired, they communicate their needs and switch off with other geese who are more rested up. It is completely fascinating, and God spoke to me in the midst of remembering the geese.

In our journey through life, we cannot forsake the assembly of other believers. We need each other; we are not islands unto ourselves. God created us for relationship -- with Him and with others. The way that the enemy works on us is to isolate us, make us feel we are alone. We are NOT alone, especially if we make our requests known. We NEED to communicate our wants and desires through prayer, and we NEED to ask others to pray as well.

In my spiritual life, there are times when I have been extremely strong. I have witnessed and been part of awesome healings, deliverances and the like. But recently, I've become an injured goose. I need to rest back and let others lead and do some of the heavy spiritual work. There are times I'm strong enough to go back into the fray and lead. There's so much we can learn from the geese.

Christians need to be more like geese. Instead of smiling that fake plastered smile when someone in the faith asks how you are and saying, "I'm blessed beyond stressed" (which is a LIE), let your requests be known. Now, I'm not saying to be like Eeyore; what I'm saying is, we NEED to lift each other up. If you're down this morning, CALL SOMEONE in the faith that you know and ask them to pray for you. It's our jobs as Christians to suffer with our brothers and sisters when they're suffering, and to rejoice with them when they rejoice.

Besides, the prayers of the saints -- all of our prayers -- become sweet-smelling incense in heaven. I know -- I read Revelation recently to the children out of their children's Bible. We need to stop looking at prayer as a chore and look at it as beautiful perfume in the nostrils of our God and Savior. And it makes us a little more loving and caring of our brothers and sisters in the Lord -- and could possibly be the thing that turns the heart of our unbelieving friends, relatives and enemies towards the loving embrace of Jesus.

What's that noise? Just the sweet sound of prayer, that's all. May we lean upon You, today and every day, every hour, my Lord.