My little place of prayer

We had a Thanksgiving dinner yesterday.

The one we would have had if I had not worked and she had not been gone. It was perfect, just the favorites, turkey, stuffing, dumplings and cranberries, not even anything green, which is almost impossible for me to do.  We played Christmas music and sang in the kitchen while we were cooking and it was a good afternoon. There was only one mishap when we left for a few minutes, but it turned out okay. The timer went off earlier than we thought and it was buzzing when we came in the door and instead of turning the oven to off, Joyce had turned it to broil.

The foil “tent” saved us. And it hadn’t been on very long, luckily.

Elaine made Joyce’s plate first and got her seated, which is extremely necessary otherwise her Mom will stand in the middle of the kitchen not knowing how or where to start.

It was hovering in the air……the prayer I felt. You can’t very well have Thanksgiving without a prayer. So I snagged her as she fixed her plate and made her a party to my “on the fly” prayer. She bowed her head as I prayed, what else could she do? I said, “That’s okay, right? I wanted to avoid…….” Of course, she knew what I was trying to avoid. The prayer at the table.

Because to be honest right now? Praying at the table is hard because I have all these conflicting emotions. To be honest I want to gulp my glass of wine and start eating. Mealtimes have been stressful, not relaxing.

She looked up after my hasty Amen. She knew I was looking for justification. She said, “Do what you can live with in your heart.” And the words dropped like warm rain of grace onto my heart because she said them with such love. “Yes, it would be easier not to, and my Mom really doesn’t care one way or the other, but it’s for Him.”

And those words of conviction hit their mark like fiery darts. She and the Holy Spirit were working as a team and it really wasn’t fair. But she was right, and there was power behind her words; it’s how she has lived these very hard two years, really the whole of her life.

Because though her parents have never treated her right, she has been Jesus to them, again and again.

We got seated, and with a freshly washed cleansed and convicted heart, I said a prayer. And I felt it.

As I prayed this morning in my “Prayer Shed” I thanked God for friends who love enough to convict me and turn me around. Who don’t cut me any slack. And I know she is thankful for me for the exact same reasons.

Thanking the Lord for His endless patience with me today.