Some mornings it looks like ten of us clustered around the tv, watching her preach about discerning the voice of the Holy Spirit, tea steaming from monogram mugs in cold hands.  Some mornings it looks like six or seven of us, trying to put voice to what we felt that week, what we’ve heard and how we’ve responded, if we responded, kids taking GoGo for a walk through our midst and reminding us all how not to take ourselves or what we’re doing here so seriously.  Some mornings it looks like four of us on the couch, the chair, perched on the arm to be close and catching up and catching our breaths.  And this morning it looked like five of us, sharing eggs and oats and yummy baked goods and berries and talking about what it looks like to fall apart for a little while and then watch Him swoop in and pat things back into a better place, sometimes in a new order better than before.  It looked like kids fighting over marbles as if they were currency while mamas break bread and talk about the eternal and the everyday, needing a bit of both to feel full, while I stand and look at this thing that gets to happen here every Monday and whisper thanks to Father for it.  Ladies, if you don’t have a place to gather with other Daughters and pray and study and break bread and laugh and eat dark chocolate covered sea salt almonds from Trader Joes, then get one.  Because this, I’ve found, is some of the stuff that fills me full and leaves no guilt.  Spiritual sugar.  And, while I often wish, afterward, that I’d said something different or more or less, that I’d been less of myself and more of Him, I still always wave them down the road feeling heart-ful and thank-filled for the joy and privilege of being Sisters together.  And, while we’ve talked about studying some parenting books and have tried studying marriage books, we’ve settled, I think, in the place of committing to becoming better Daughters and knowing that that trickles down into marriages and children and transforms both.  But I realized just now, laying beside a previously wretched Lucy as she sleeps with emmy-emm dye on her face and dreams, I’m sure, of how she’ll defy me this afternoon, that in all our time together this morning we forgot to pray, that I forgot to lead us in that.  So here it is;
Father, find us willing vessels to pour yourself into and find us cracked enough for your Shekinah Glory, once poured in, to leak out fluidly and to seep into our husbands and children and neighbors and school boards.  Saturate us so fully with your Holy Spirit that we wake up from spiritual slumber and find you on our fingers, in our hearts, on our minds and coating our feet.  Lead us to paths of righteousness and give us courage to walk them.  Let us proudly wear our brokenness like a new sweater so that those around us can see Jehovah Jirah heal and work and move through that.  Bless our children with mothers who put them above the World.  Bless our husbands with wives that put them above our children.  Bless you with Daughters who put Your Son above all.  Clothe us with compassion and empathy and wisdom to know how to respond to the many many needs around us.  Let us live with open doors and open hands, knowing that the only precious thing, the only precious thing, we have is to be held firmly in the hand of The One who was and is and who is to come.  Amen.
This is me being real.  Loving Mondays and the women who make it so and the God who holds it all together with His purpose.  Bless you this Monday, friends.

3 Replies to “together.”

  1. beautiful prayer my darling. I think I would have done life much better had I a Monday group when you were Lucy's age. You will never regret the time spent in precious fellowship around our precious Lord.

    loving you deep,


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