The Case for Prayer

The Case for Prayer

Sometimes I’m jolted back in time to a memory or a place rather abruptly. They say trauma has a way of doing that and I’m not qualified to take a stance with zero degrees in my name nor any qualifications. I’m no expert of anything at all. But yesterday I had just exactly one of those days.

It was simply put together: A hand-sewn cartoonish looking pillowcase with bold primary colors. Standard size. Cotton. Superman images captured the hero flying confidently with a cape, & was printed all over. I never was much of a fan of Superman honestly, but I always enjoyed the idea of him, I suppose. No matter who you are, you know who Superman is. I never gave Superman too much thought one way or the other.

But there was a nurse.

And her name was Flo. I’m certain that wasn’t her full name. It must have been short for something else, but I never knew what exactly. I’ve probably spoken about her before and you’ll likely hear me mention her name again. Because Flo embodied what it meant to be faithful in prayer. She embodied what it meant to “do your work as unto the Lord.” I don’t know if she loved her job as a nurse as much as she loved the interaction with her patients. The encounters. Her purpose.

They were just children after all.

And thankfully, my children were blessed by her presence and by her skill, and her compassion. I on the other hand, was often met with a smidge of criticism. She had no trouble at all telling me that my backside had become quite robust. She stood with a very petite frame & her concerns didn’t rile me in the least. She was of Asian decent and spoke of her homeland often. She missed it there along with so many of her family members, but had grown to build a beautiful life in central Florida. We chatted easily at every visit & she would often scramble up quickly and rush toward the door when she realized just how much time had passed during our catch up session.

She had a strong circle of women at her church whom she seemed to meet with quite often. They would purposefully sew pillowcases and small blankets for the pediatric patients who frequented the clinics or the hospital that was adjacent.

But they wouldn’t only sew them.

They poured their heartfelt prayers over them.

If you were lucky enough to get one of their pillowcases or blankets, you were indeed lucky enough. Flo would be livid that I’m calling it luck. And I know better, myself. I detest the entire meaning of the word luck and it goes against everything I believe, yet I still feel compelled at times to call it as such.

Prayer seems like such a tricky thing. It seems at times it can be elusive. It often feels it can be a lifeline and sometimes it feels…pointless. I despise writing out in back & white my most embarrassing, immature thoughts, yet in the same breath I think to myself… surely it’s consolation to someone to not feel alone in their own thoughts? I don’t know… perhaps it’s my therapy of choice.

I knew how meaningful Flo’s prayers were. I could feel them when she would guide me gently back into the waiting room. Sometimes, her small frame nudging me down the stark white hall adorned with random large cutouts of a Disney princess or an oversized print of SpongeBob, was the only way I believe we made it to the room for particularly stressful appointments.

She knew.

She knew because she held the chart in her hand, because she spoke directly to me, and because she would speak to the physician.

And she knew because she walked closely with the Lord.

She knew how much we needed the pillowcase… or more specifically, the prayers that accompanied the linens.

When I picked up the soft pillowcase after not doing so in quite some time… I quietly thanked God for Flo & the many others that He has so graciously placed in my life.

Her spirit has since moved heavenward, but I believe with my whole soul, her prayers are still being answered here.

Don’t stop praying. Don’t stop believing for what He said He would do. Know that He hears every prayer.

“Now faith is the certainty of things hoped for, a proof of things not seen.”

‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭11‬:‭1‬ ‭