What prayer is meant to be

They pray for me.

And I feel it.

A tangible net of words
and heart-leanings
upon which I rest,
letting go of fear and pretense.

I admit to the mess that is me,
and in their words I find You,
in all Your glory,
as I find my way along
whatever path,
well-trodden or barren,
You’ve chosen.

My foot finds a rock,
and I stumble, yet I
fall onto tender 
and acceptance,
even though I expected
scraped knees and
bruised shins.

They pray.

As do I.

And this is what 
You intended.

“God, whom I serve with my whole heart, is my witness how constantly I remember you in my prayers at all times.” Roman 1:9-10

Thanking God this morning for the gift of my prayer warrior friends.  You know who you are…

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