A friend texted me last week during the workday, seeing if I had a minute to talk. You all know that I am not a big on-the-phone person and she knew that too when she asked for a call. Must be something big. What happened between the text and phone call is deceptively significant.
I prayed.
This friend has two beautiful babies and a happy marriage. She's got some drama from her family of origin and some turmoil with owning properties that spring leaks just out of easy reach in Indiana, Michigan and Illinois. She's what can best described as a "great Christian" who's been hurt by the Church and loves anyway. On her behalf, I worried for all the things that could go wrong with what's right and wrong-er with what's already wrong.
She just wanted to verbally process a phone call she had earlier that day that dredged up some of her past that was confusing. She sorted it all out quickly and we had a few minutes to be chatty and affirming with each other.
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I'm almost ashamed to admit that I am completely clueless right now with faith. Whatever that means. Like from the inside of a balloon, I can see light and hear noise, but cannot tell if anything is really out there beyond the rubber.
I kept up with the motions of faith long after I'd lost it. Habit or rain dance. I eventually stopped because I felt that even if God was real, he wouldn't want some formulaic mumbling. He wouldn't want tickets to the same show every night.
So I was silent and so was He. Not to say that He's spoken up since then, but my heart squeezed when I thought of my friend. Of her babies. Of her important role in some many lucky people's lives. I prayed for her health, safety and happiness. I prayed for hope in whatever was prompting the text.
And I prayed a few lines of thankfulness over her. I'm sure that's all that her Maker wanted to hear from me anyway.
