Monday, November 8, 2010

He prays.

I've been watching him. He isn't the same man he was yesterday, 2 months ago, a year ago, 10 years ago. Sometimes when he doesn't know I'm looking, I'll follow him with my eyes. Noticing the extra dose of patience he doles out to the cranky toddler, or the prayer he says with the 7 year old who is acting like a bully, or the tender touch he gives the blondie who fell down and got hurt, or the twinkle in his eye as he inspects the newest drawing by our 6 year old budding artist.

I'm jealous of the changes he has made. I'm jealous of the Christ that is oozing out of his pores. I long to join him, but something holds me back.

Pride? Selfishness?

Probably both.

He has started to pray. I lay in his crook before the sun comes up, and he whispers sweet prayers for our day and for our family. He asks if I want to pray, but I can't. I don't know how. I think about it often. I wonder what it would be like to have a truly dependent relationship with the One who is healing my husband. I lay awake wondering what to say, how to talk to my Maker.

I feel so small and insignificant. I feel as though I've walked too far away. I feel like change is impossible and maybe even too good to be true. I fight a war with myself every day as I gaze upon my Bible and as I help the children learn their AWANA verses. I often push the feelings down, knowing that if I allow them in I will have to change. Things will have to be different.

Change has always scared me. I don't embrace it, but instead I dig in my heels and squeeze my eyes shut and hope that it just leaves me alone.

I'm to the point, though, where I can't ignore it anymore. Something is going to need to change. What's it going to be?

1 comment:

  1. This is prayer, or it can be. Pour it out before the One who already sees it anyway. Just start and it will come.

    She preaches to herself. Sigh.

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