I’m not being falsely modest when I say I’m really not that spiritual. By that I mean I’ve never seen a spirit or been had any tangible experiences with spirits. I know people who are and do, and I’m sort of in awe of them, wondering why them and not me. I’m good with it, though, because in all honesty it’d scare me to death. So I’m happy to keep our realms mostly separate. But at the same time, prayer is my lifeline. I don’t care if I interact with other spirits (I’d rather not), but I rely on Heavenly Father intensely. Oddly enough, I sometimes struggle to recall a single answer to a prayer. Whereas other times I feel like my whole life is a DNA strand of responses. I think it’s so constant that I can hardly decipher where my questions end and answers begin, they’re so intertwined and being played out simultaneously.
I thought about this just yesterday as I was driving to the mall to meet a friend to walk. With the other old people I relate to better than my contemporaries. Todd had been researching the pain I’d been having and gave me his conclusive diagnosis and helpful hints that morning. Out of nowhere. It’s going on three weeks, so it’s not like we’d had a special conversation about it. In my heart I’d wondered if there was something I could be doing, wondering if it was normal, could I be more proactive. A silent prayer, not wanting to entirely give up the pain because I know it’s all part of the process and good for me, yet willing to do more on my part if only I knew what that meant. An inspired husband, when he could’ve been playing games, sleeping or looking up who knows what else, spent his late night finding answers for me. I know it’s a stretch. Most wouldn’t connect the dots and necessarily attribute that as an answer to a prayer. But what is a prayer and what constitutes an answer? To me, prayer is when I’m talking to Heavenly Father. Not necessarily on my knees by my bed. In fact, those prayers seem almost too formal and stiff. I talk to Him all the time, I have questions, I’m sad, I can’t think of who else to share my joy with who will care that much. I worry about my kids. I feel helpless to comfort friends. I’m far away from my mom and sisters. I petition Him to watch over them. I wonder what I can do, given my limited talents and resources, to help and serve. I need peace in a complicated and troubling world. You know I like to write, but I’m not an eloquent speaker. He never complains. I don’t know how to say a prayer that would be worthy of transcription, we just talk.
So I think He knows my concerns. So many—most—of my prayers are just thoughts of my heart. That I’m honest about. That I tell Him about. And this little question was one.
How do I expect Him to answer? I’ve always wanted—and still long for—a good long sentence, prose I can capture and record. I don’t know if my answers come that way. I have one experience, but it’s tiny and hardly a sentence even. Most of the time I anticipate ideas and feelings about my concerns. And even though I’ve seen it so many times over the years, and I know it’s how it works, I’m always surprised when people are my answers. Regular everyday people like you. A beloved man taught, “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other.” I’m certain that He inspires us with good ideas. Creative ways to help each other, the motivation to even move with our ideas. He propels us to go and do. Through each other He answers so many of our prayers.
I don’t know if I’ve told friends out loud that I’m praying for them, but I know I’ve written it. It seems to flippant and fake and like some church lady to say I’m praying for you. But it doesn’t. And it isn’t. Because it’s genuine. Even if it sounds trite. People have written it in nearly every card—I’d say upwards of 99% of the cards actually—I’ve gotten in the past month or so. And it always seems to accompany the hugs. I love it, I accept these gestures. I’m overwhelmed by your generosity, that you would log me and my family away in your busy minds, burdened and bulging with so many other concerns. I’ve wondered what all these prayers are doing, what’s become of your efforts, what this experience would be without them. As I prefaced this with, I really am not that in-tune with spiritual dealings, I’m not sure how it all works. But I can tell you how it feels on the receiving end of being prayed for. Because I think you’d like to know where your prayers are ending up.
I can tell you that before anyone knew, I felt so sad. I felt alone, waiting for results, worrying what it would mean for me and my family. I told two friends and my sisters. That eased my anxiety immediately. Not just because I shared my heart, but because I started to feel their prayers in subtle but buoyant ways. I felt myself shifting, more accepting of whatever would be my new future. I felt calm and light. Even though I was admittedly scared.
As we began to tell people who would need to know, like our kids and parents and siblings, I know the prayers intensified. I’ve had people from all over the country and world telling me they’ve been praying for me. I know and trust that He honors those prayers. And so I wonder about the results of your efforts. I haven’t lived through this without prayer, so I don’t know what that would look like, but I can tell you how it feels with prayer.
It feels like when Todd and I were flying home from a week in North Carolina, high above the cities and commotion below. We were in our own little cloud bath of bubbles. Suspended, cushioned. At peace, calm. I’ve felt insulated, carried. Matter-of-fact, able to confront each new appointment and day with confidence and peace.
I prayed about the doctors assigned to me. I wanted assurance that they were the right ones for me. I received a peaceful witness even before I met my surgeon. He was the one I was most concerned about (obviously) and so I specifically prayed to know. Then, when we met with him and talked, I felt overwhelming gratitude. I knew this was a good fit. I felt so blessed with calmness, certainty that it would be ok, that I’d be in good hands.
I’d also been assigned to another doctor. But I wasn’t completely on board. I asked my nurse if there was any chance at all for the other one I really wanted. But he’s very well-known and respected, I knew it would be a long shot. I was doubtful, but she left the room, came back and told me if I could be there at 7:45 the next morning I could have him. Maybe not what you’d call an answer to a prayer, but I sensed a small miracle.
We’ve been blessed to know how to handle this all on the home front. I feel like we’ve been sensitive to know how each child is doing. I remember several days after finding out I had cancer, knowing we needed to tell our sons but not knowing how or when. I was doing laundry and had a distinct impression to go and talk to my 16 year-old right then. It was the most perfect opportunity. Just right for some quiet conversation, hugs, and an exchange of love and tears. It was just what our hearts needed at the right time. I’m so grateful for that inspiration. And similarly with our college son. We found the perfect time, and I felt to let Todd handle it. It felt just right.
I’m also being blessed with the ability to learn to accept service. It’s coming, it’s not easy. It is possibly the hardest part. Because I know the sacrifices of time and money and family and convenience you’ve made to bring meals, to assemble packages and run to the post office. To leave your chores to sit with me and visit. I love that you are in-tune to know what will help our family. I feel a part of this because people have asked me how they can help. Knowing their hearts and knowing how good it feels when someone accepts a small act of service, I’ve wanted to help them know how to help me. Heavenly Father has given me good ideas! I asked one friend to come paint my nails and another to come wash my hair. I’ve asked others to take my kids and another to please sweep my floor. I’ve asked four friends to drive me to appointments and on errands. I’ve asked my kids to do extra chores. I’ve asked my youngest daughter to help me get ready and to take a bath, way back on those first few tentative days. I’m so practical, not very fluffy, so these acts have meant so much to me. But it’s the prayers that helped me know what to ask for, that have given me the ability to even ask. Because it’s so not like me to want to depend on others and to ask for help.
I’ve been blessed by your diverse acts that prove to us how intimately He knows us. You’ve maybe had a random idea come to you that He knows would touch our hearts just right. Some of you came to the hospital, some just showed up at our door on a cold, snowy evening. Some brought breakfast or lunch and intimate sharing. All of you have made me laugh. Some brought baskets loaded with snacks and indulgences. Others just brought themselves. Some sent flowers, others sent words of comfort and encouragement. My sisters and mom put their lives on hold for a week to come and selflessly just be with me. Each act of service felt prompted and showcased each friend’s personality. I feel He uses our natural gifts and abilities to bless one another. So it may not seem that inspired to do something that seems so natural to you, but I feel He inspires us to act, to share our gifts in ways that showcase His love.
I’ve felt inspired to know how to serve in tiny, homebound ways. I’d love to be out doing more with my arms, lifting spirits and moving boxes. But I’m not even sure I can make bread at the moment since wiping my counters still hurts. But I know He wants us to serve, and so ideas come to me just like they come to you. Because I know He wants to bless me by feeling useful.
I’ve felt physical strength beyond my natural capacity. I know it’s not just because I’m relatively young and healthy. It’s more than that. I’ve felt encouraged to move through my stiffness and soreness. I’ve been able to shop for hours a week after surgery. I’ve been able to do most of my regular life. It’s still tight and sore, but my range of motion is good. I’ve felt enabled and empowered beyond my expectations.
More than even the physical strength, I’ve felt your prayers blessing me emotionally and spiritually. I believe this is the area of our lives I’ve felt the greatest impact. I feel so calm, at peace, happy, light, energized. I’m excited to wake up every day. I don’t feel the least bit distressed or depressed. I will say honestly I’ve cried in the mornings. It’s been sore, I feel stiff, I hate remembering that this is my new normal for another day. But I imagine that’s normal, I don’t really care if it is or isn’t though, it’s just how I feel. But I’m impressed by how quickly the tears dry, how easy it is to move on, to admit it stinks but to get on with the task at hand.
I have felt His overwhelming love. I feel as if you’ve all had a hand in helping me experience true love. Gratitude and love have been the overarching feelings of my heart. It almost consumes me. I know your prayers have given me that gift. I feel closer to Todd and the kids. Like cardboard walls have been cast aside in friendships, that our hearts are easier to read. I feel so indebted to my Heavenly Father and so incredibly humbled to feel a sliver of the pain our Savior felt in my behalf. Your prayers have helped strengthen all these relationships.
So as I’ve thought about the power of prayer the past month or so, I’m keenly aware that it is strong. And real. I cling to admonition given many years ago to ask myself how I’ve seen the hand of God in my life. What would that look like? To me, it is a million tiny pulses of energy in a million different ways. A smile from someone, an answer to a question in something I read or hear, a feeling of peace, motivation to make a small change, a random idea to help someone, a call from a friend, a hug from one of my kids, tokens of love from a loving Father. Close. So close. But reliant upon us to help Him answer His children’s sincere petitions. I feel that you’ve been doing that for us this month by praying for us and acting on promptings you’ve received. I know prayer works. I’m not sure how, but I know what it feels like.
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