An Eternal Offering

One of the earliest memories I have of my father is that of him kneeling beside his bed praying. Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize what a gift that was — both the prayers and the imagery. Today I am overwhelmed by it. 

I have always been grateful for my parents’ prayers for us children. Whereas I recall Daddy saying our nightly prayers with us, I think Mom did most of her praying in the bathroom where things were quieter. In later years, she has kept a running list of all the family members in her little prayer book by her chair in the den.

Through the last decade, we have watched as my dad’s mind has been given over to dementia. And with that has come the loss of things which he used to do with ease. All who have any dealings with this disease know the many things of which one is robbed. It has also made me wonder what my life would look like without my daddy’s prayers. 

But then there’s this:

The angel said, “All of your prayers ... have ascended before God as an eternal offering.”

Acts 10:4

What an amazing and encouraging word! To know that my daddy’s prayers were not limited to time and space but have found an ETERNAL presence before God to be answered in His timing and good will.

When my children were young, I would often use prayers written by others. Today I have a full shelf of prayer books with dated pages and the child’s name for that particular day I prayed. And then there are the spiral notebooks filled with prayers for my children ... as well as my husband. After all, isn’t it a wife and mother’s duty to pray?

But my children are all grown now. Full-fledged adults. Living their lives all in separate cities. And sometimes I don’t know what to pray. Or how to pray. I just feel “prayed out”.

But in such times, it is verses like this that gives me such hope. 

Indeed, I have been known to stand in front of that book shelf, open my arms and pray: “God, thank You that every prayer I have ever prayed still lives before You. That on the days I prayed them, they became an eternal offering. And that on these days when I have no words, You recall not only my words, but you see my posture and hear my heart.”

Rest today in a God who is faithful and ever-mindful.

Just an ordinary moment...

A Different Kind of Palm Sunday

Yesterday was no different in that I still found myself on the way to church to participate as pianist in the morning worship service. What WAS different, however, is that there were only 6 of us there, keeping the 6-foot protocol between us. What WAS different is that the service was live-streamed instead of just “live.” And what was also different is that on this particular Palm Sunday, there was no pomp and circumstance, no loud hosannas, no palm branches, and certainly no children marching down the aisle waving them.  It was a different kind of Palm Sunday, for sure.  

But there was something else different about this particular Sunday of shouting hosannas. My path to church leads me by the local Episcopal church. In fact, it sits adjacent to the corner where I turn, so I am always aware of its presence. On a normal Sunday morning, there are cars in the parking lot, overflowing into the next. And on a normal Palm Sunday morning, there is a crowd gathered outside its front doors, with each congregant holding a branch. And each year, I would take such delight in the image of joy it presented.

But this Palm Sunday was different. Instead of many cars, there was only one. A white one. And out of it was getting a man of many years who I could tell was approaching being crippled with age. His trek was so slow as he made his way around the front of the vehicle. And in his hand was one lone palm branch. The powerful image took my breath. I turned the corner and continued to watch through the rear-view mirror. Tears welling in my eyes. My own heart shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!” 

I went on inside carrying with me the image, even sharing it with some there. But as I left, I knew I wanted to see where the worshiper had placed his branch. And there it was, resting on the stone altar that sits in the partially enclosed garden between the sanctuary and the educational building. 

No, there weren’t any crowds gathered outside of churches. There weren’t any loud organs piping “All Glory, Laud and Honor.” There weren’t any crowds. And there certainly weren’t any children marching down aisles waving branches. But there was one elderly gentleman with a single palm slowly making his way to the stone altar. After all, if he had not, we might have heard the rocks crying out.

“As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice ... “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 

He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.””

Luke 19:37-40 NRSV

Just an ordinary moment...