A friend said this to me; she is an ordained Anglican priest. And she doesn't know how to pray.
And neither do I.
The upturn of my life is entirely overwhelming, and yet I am well aware that I am not the only one. There is heartache everywhere I look.
Some of my closest friends are preparing to say goodbye to their baby girl, only a year after they said goodbye to their baby boy. Two children, born to the same family, with a brain deficiency so severe that it cannot sustain life. Two hits. One family.
Another family at my church has been battling their daughter's cancer since she was a toddler; she is now six years old. And they learned this week that this tumor, after major surgery last week, is still present and pressing. And the doctors have reached the end of their conclusions, have done all they can do.
A friend has spent her life in ministry, pursuing graduate degrees to the doctoral level. She is skilled, gifted, and has so much to offer - yet she is stocking groceries as a fulltime job. Her aspirations sit on the shelf, her gifts seemingly set aside.
Children are sick. Parents die. Accidents happen. Diagnoses are true. Dreams are delayed or dashed all together.
I read, "In thanksgiving, present all your requests to God."
And yet my heart seems too weak to speak at all.
I read, "Be still and know that I am God."
Be still and know.
I appreciate this permission, since it's all I can do today. Simply be.
"Mrs. Franklin, do you really and truly believe in God with no doubts at all?"
"Oh, Una, I really and truly believe in God with all kinds of doubts."
But I base my life on this belief.
~ Madeleine L'Engle