Old Prayer Diaries

I've been in the process of unpacking, cleaning and organizing my home office. Months of life-complications, yet again, necessitated moving into this room last. As a reward for continuing until the last box was assessed, if not unpacked, I discovered a trove of hidden jewels: several forgotten prayer diaries spanning the past 15 years. Unsullied by extended context or continuity, each notebook contained a period of my life, preserved in amber. At the time, I thought each loss was a minor tragedy. I mourned for those books. Instead, they have become like a spiritual string of beads, each gem designed to reveal that God had been faithful, even when I was not.

The first I found celebrated the birth of my first granddaughter, Corinne.Separated by nearly a thousand miles, I longed to touch her, comfort her cries, know her from her first breath of life. Instead, I poured my heart out in prayer. I asked God to walk with this child every step of her path, to cover her with his mercy until she was old enough to ask to bask in his grace. With tears, I begged God to hold her close when I could not.

Another diary was written during a women's retreat on a mountainside in Wyoming. Having entered college at nearly 50, I was struggling mightily to learn advanced mathematics in order to qualify for nursing college. Terrified at the prospect of failing to fulfill such a long-delayed dream, my prayers became pleas for the wisdom and strength to see the daunting challenge through with integrity. At one point I sketched myself as a child in her Father's lap. The caption says, "Pick me up, Daddy!"

Later diaries reflect Dennis' and my struggles with the Department of Family Services to adopt his grandsons and another little girl in foster care, whom I had babysat for years. Oh, how I still love those children, but God had another plan for their life -- and ours. We were devastated by the court's decisions. I was comforted by praying for the seeds of faith planted in our home to sprout to life when they needed it.

At times I poured out pain for broken family relationships at the foot of the throne. At others, I rejoiced over victories gained, small battles won, or God's loving hand of provision revealed. During nursing school clinicals, I talked to God about my patients' suffering. I begged Him for endurance through many circumstances and trials.

Prayers for myself and loved ones leap from the pages, because they are so personal. Yet, the diaries are also filled with prayers for others. On the first tentative excursions from the pathway of self-serving prayer, I learned that praying for others unleashed powerful changes in my life. Praying for others gave new perspective to my own desires. Finally, the Holy Spirit began to address my own requests through the answers to prayers for others.

The diaries are now lined on a special shelf in my office. As time permits, I return to record the answers to prayer that took more months, or years, than the period for which the diary was active. I am picking up the threads of forgotten prayers that remain unanswered. I am blessed by both my past and future through these precious diaries.