Those Prayers, And Beyond

I wish I could consistently remain in this place, where prayers overflow from me. For a few days, everywhere I turned, I found myself praying for someone---for an older lady working as a cashier at a discount store. What was her life like? Did she have family? Was she retired, bored, in such desperate need of money that she had to take a low-paying job just to make ends meet?

Or the man working behind the desk at the post office. When he handed me my change from mailing a huge stack of tax bills, I noticed his pink armband---breast cancer awareness. Was his wife sick? A friend, sister, mother? Had his life been affected by a loss of love to a horrible disease? 

Then there was the older woman shopping just a few aisles away from me. When I caught sight of her out of the corner of my eye, I instinctively took a double take, startled by her appearance. One half of her face was normal; the other side of her face had been taken over by a huge bulge, a tumor-like appearance that had caused one eye to disappear and gave her a look not fully human. Immediately, I felt ashamed of being startled by my first glance at her. I observed the clerk as he rang up her items. He carefully avoided direct facial contact with her, but politely placed her receipt in the bag with a, "Have a nice day." She thanked him with a smile that was small and a voice that was quiet, she turned to me with a comfortable expression and thanked me for letting her in line in front of me, seeming relatively at ease in her body and unoblivious to the uncomfortable glances in her direction.

And I prayed, "God, whatever she has gone through, 
whatever she needs, please help her. 
Please heal her. Please let her feel you love her."

I walked back to my car where I sat in the parking lot a few minutes and heard the almost imperceptible song of a bird. I glanced up and saw that the glass around a parking lot light had been partially broken, which I normally would never have noticed. For a brief period of time, I felt that my eyes had been opened, my senses heightened, that God was equally showing me his tiny gifts to the world which I often fail to see, and his the monumental needs of his children, which I often overlook.

Even though I will never know the result of these prayers, I find myself regularly praying, "God, who was that woman in the store? Where is she now? What is going on in her life?"

And I wish I could always have that perception; I wish I could always hear those deep proddings, nudging my eyes open to see the depth of another human's need.

Yet then.....I wish I could go beyond that, to not only see other's needs, to not only offer a prayer (no matter how well-meaning) ...but how can I act?

What can I say or do for the young, exhausted woman in the grocery store with a cartful of crying kids and a handful of coupons trying to make sure they have enough food for the week?

What can I do to not only talk about the atrocities of human trafficking, but to actually make a difference?

When will I sit down and actually write out my budget to see if once a month I could mail off a check to a woman in Africa who is trying to learn to read and write, and to gain simple skills such as weaving or basket-making to help support her family? When am I ready to make an impact not only in my own comfortable environment, but in those around the world?

What is really stopping me? 

What is really stopping you?

God, thank you for being my eyes, for helping me see both the blessings and the hurt in the world around us. Now please be my words. Help me not only offer a prayer to the broken and hurting, but help me be your hands, not hands that are merely clasped in indifference, but hands that reach out to wounded, broken lives. ~Amen.