I am alive. I feel like someone kicked me in the crotch while wearing steel-toe boots, yet I am alive to tell about it. Worry not, I will not tell about that, at least not for now!
I was pretty worked up and scared going into things yesterday as I had gone through this two years ago and it was essentially a nightmare physically and emotionally. Gynos are evil I tell you (and the fact that just auto-corrected to Gyros just made my day. Gyros are not evil...just kind of gross). I whole-heartedly attribute yesterday going so smoothly to all the prayers said on my behalf.
Since I was a teen, I have had a friend who I would always call when I had something I really needed God to hear. I am always good with praying for others, yet I struggle when it comes to me praying for something for myself. I often feel like the line gets disconnected before the call is even made. When we were together, either camp or sleepovers, I would always let her pray before we called it a night. I knew God was going to listen to her long before He would listen to me. Now married and expecting her 7th child, I let her off the hook in the prayer category years ago, yet I know she still would without hesitation.
When we were kids, my brother used to wait until there was company over and then tell me to run out into the room among everyone and say some highly inappropriate phrase (which I had no clue was inappropriate). He would always tag on the end of it, don't tell mom I told you to do it, tell her you heard it at school. Seeing that I had yet learned from the multiple other times he would coax me into something, I would trolley right out and share my newly learned phrase. Mortified, my mother would ask if I knew what that meant, I would answer no, she would ask where I heard it, I would say at school. Then, we would go to the bedroom and have one of "those" talks where I learned what that phrase meant. By the time we were in junior high, she had figured out who was instigating it. As for me, I learned to think twice before doing something my brother asked. Didn't say I didn't do it, I just thought twice about it.
When we ask someone to pray on our behalf, how do we react? Do we "ask and run" in hopes that God won't know that we were involved? We ask then add, but don't tell God I asked you to do so? That was always my plan. I mean, if He wasn't going to listen to me directly (as I felt), why would he listen to another if He knew I asked them? I know, it doesn't really make sense, yet that's how I thought. I always had faith that God would hear the prayer and maybe even answer it, as long as He didn't know I was involved in it.
As time went on, my compromise was the "buddy prayer." It was ok to pray for myself (either audible or silently) if I was physically near someone I knew God listened to. God had to listen because I was with someone who was good. Even if my prayer was more like a background tract, it at least got in. It made it and maybe someone up in heaven would listen to it. Whether He heard it or not, I had faith that my prayer at least made it because I knew my buddy was a good soul and her's always made it.
My struggle with God and prayer has waxed and waned over the years. It seems to run parallel with other struggles in my life. Sadly, the parallel is kind of backwards - I run when I should be praying.
I think the first time I really threw it all out there was on my mission when I got hurt. I was sending my trainee who had only been there about a month out with other missionaries and members because I couldn't walk. I laid in bed all day when all I wanted to do was be out on the Lord's work. I can recall kneeling at my bedside and thinking "God, if you never listened before, please hear me now" and prayed my heart out.
I prayed that something would change - either I could heal enough to get back to work or let me get some help, yet I did not come on a mission to do nothing. I was there to serve and teach and I was not able to do either. I was discouraged and my heart was heavy and I was watching my trainee's slowly come to that place too. If He could make something happen for no other reason, make it happen for her. Seems that in my life it takes those "at the end of my rope" moments to get a self-directed prayer. I remember for a week or so before this summer, always ending my prayers with "please God, don't let me hurt myself." That should have been a big sign. Oh well, work in progress.
I get hung up on words. For example, we all know how much I love to ask for "help." So, what if it was called something else? I would not think twice to ask for "assistance" or even "an extra hand" as long as I didn't have to use the word "help." I know at the end of the day, it is all the same thing, yet in my mind there is a difference.
I like to talk to God. I have come to love talking with God actually. Nothing excites me more than to go for a walk or sit back and just have a chat. We talk when I am driving or working. We chat all the time. Sometimes, instead of waiting around work until class, I stop by the church and sit in the back of the chapel and just chat away. Like two friends, I talk about what's been going on, what I'm struggling with, what I am winning with, who I have seen, who I am concerned about, what I am afraid of, and more. I am sure our chats resemble my writings. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I am angry, sometimes I am afraid, there are even times my heart is broken. We talk casually and we have some very reverent and sacred conversations. I know I am heard and with that comes a lot of peace.
Then, there is praying. You know that "official" communication with God that you are taught from a young age? The, fold your arms, bow your head, close your eyes, speak quietly, remember your thee-thy-thou's, keep your focus and don't let your mind stray, praying. Not against this at all and believe it has a very respected place, yet in regards to my personal prayers I just don't do it very well - especially the keeping focused thing. I do try to stay focused, and then I focus so much on staying focused that I am not focused on anything. It pretty much ends in frustration.
Then, most times I just don't feel like I fit that role. You know, someone important. Like in school, the pretty girl, or the smart kid, or the captain of the sports team. I'm not important, I am just....me. I am ok with that, I am good just being me. I am unique, and I am awesome, and I believe that everybody needs a little Blewy in their lives. Yet, somewhere I have attached this impossible role and expectation to myself. There is a small part of me that is always hoping God will just go, "hey, get up and just talk to me like we always do." Maybe He does and I just don't hear it.
I have gradually gotten away from directly asking others to pray for me. Sure, I will offer it if someone asks what they can do to help, yet I try not to ask directly. Then, times like this week roll in and fear and uncertainty make me put my pride aside and call in assistance. I say my own prayers to the best of my ability and then I humbly ask those powerful spirits I know if they will remember me in prayer. Let it be noted though, I don't choose lightly, nor do I choose just anyone. Yes, a lot of thought goes into who I will ask to say prayers for me. Think about it, it means I have to admit there is something going on in the first place. It's all about trust.
Seeing how well things turned out, I know I chose the right people. My faith in myself may have been shaky, yet I had complete faith in those I asked that they would be heard - and I know they were.
So, what's the moral to all this? I really don't know. More than anything, a prayer of thanks to those who remembered me. I figure as I continue to find myself and heal, praying for myself will continue to fall into place as well. I am just truly blessed with good people in my life who give me strength. I hope that I am always able to offer even a portion back to them.
Keep Calm and Pray On!
