The (Not So) Silent Prayer

Today my nephew Eric will be heading West in the big rig he bought. We got an email last night from my sister Barb asking for prayer. At this time of year weather is such a factor to consider, and 24-yr.-olds think they're so invincible. Barb said, "I know he's 24, but I'm his mom and I'm allowed to worry!" So when you see weather reports from across the country the next several days, lift Eric up in prayer.

My Uncle Bob Myers passed away on Thursday. He's the one I wrote about on Feb. 3rd who called the family meeting together. I just love to imagine my mom rejoicing with him that he's in Heaven. For that matter - HIS mother. He told us at that family meeting, "I don't know about the rest of you, but when our mother died, I lost my best friend." And he began to cry. I asked him how old he was, and he said, "Eight." He remembers of her saying to him one time, "What am I going to do, Bob? Here I am, so sick, and I have all these boys. I guess you'll have to be my doctor." We've been told that spending money on medical needs was not a priority for my grandfather. No wonder this dear mother of ten children, having a heart condition and no money for doctors, wondered what she was going to do. What a precious thing to imagine the reunion of Bob with his mother on Thursday. Pass the tissues, please!

And now on a lighter note, here is my story for this week:

THE (NOT SO) SILENT PRAYER

In March 1993 the music teacher at MCDS left to have a baby, not planning to return, and I had been hired to replace her. This was my third round of employment at this school - I had taken leaves when our children were young and again later when I tried to become a home school mom. So I felt quite familiar with everything and everybody that first morning back to work. As usual, the day started with staff devotions. On this particular day they were sharing prayer requests. There were quite a number of them. And then it was time to pray. Frank Rittenhouse, who was principal at that time, was in charge, and he said, "Let us pray for..." and he mentioned the first request. I expected someone to pray for that request, but we waited and waited and waited, and NOBODY prayed. The request was for someone on staff, and I began to feel very sorry for that person, that no one cared enough to pray over her request. So I gathered up my righteous indignation and decided I didn't care if I was the new kid on the block today, I would pray over that request, and I did. Then Frank mentioned the next request. Again, we waited and waited and waited, and NOBODY prayed. I could not believe it. What was wrong with these people? Had they all lost their courage to pray aloud? I almost prayed again, but my righteous indignation was not quite strong enough to do it a second time. I was stunned when Frank went ahead and mentioned the third request before anyone had even prayed for the second one. Again, SILENCE. And then it suddenly dawned on me - their custom was that the person in charge would mention the request and they would each SILENTLY pray for it. Where was a hole in the floor I could go through, please?

Frank (who has since gone back to his original position as third grade teacher and whose classroom is right across the hall from mine) and I have been laughing over that memory for fourteen years. And anyone who knows us can easily imagine what it sounds like when the two of us start laughing! I did think it was a stupid custom, and they soon changed it from silent to audible prayers! Thankgoodness!! At least no new teachers since then have had to make that mistake!