She prays for protection.
A text arrives with a frightful and unfavorable lab test report.
She prays for healing.
A lady on the aisle filled with cans of beans and tomatoes shares how difficult this week has been.
She prays for strength.
A mostly grown child calls with anxiety and frustration pulsating in every word.
She prays for peace.
A brother accepts a weighty responsibility and he's ready except he's nervous.
She prays for courage.
A friend seems discouraged as accounts run hollow and ends refuse to meet.
She prays for provision.
The manager seems misguided, the minister mistaken, the momma fairly miserable.
She prays for redemption.
I wish I was the "she" in every case. I am grateful to my core for every "she" who prays for me and mine, and I am working hard [read: running hard and resting hard] to be in better shape about this. To rise and step in and kneel and approach and petition and battle and believe for others. Oh, for grace.
And she prayed.
