Image "Morning" by William Barclay
I like to think that all of the prayers we offer to God rise through the clouds and mingle with the strains of Heavenly praise as they float across that sea of glass and reach the very Throne of God. There they fuse together with the very pulse of Heaven itself as they enter God's own heart.
The Bible says that God collects all our prayers in a golden bowl. If that is true, then not one prayer will ever be missed. God hears the smallest whisper, sigh, however faint. The gift of the Holy Spirit insures that even our very breath is recorded and known, so that we may never have to worry that He doesn't know what I am going through down here. "Down here" is the same as "Up There" to Him.
Sometimes as I go about my day I think of our times together in the mornings just God and I, and I can't wait for the next one. They are like survival islands in my life as I hop from one to the next, each time growing closer to that green shore, that place of ultimate safety where My Shepard waits, His arms held out for me. I know as long as I keep my eyes on Him there is no need to fear.
As I lit my candle this morning I thought of other prayer times over the years, they leap out like beacons marking time.....I thought of when my Mom and I prayed in front of the fire in the mornings before school. I was having such a difficult time, but she would grab my hand and we would huddle together before the warmth of the fire and pray. Even all these years later I can still feel her hand clasping mine, and hear her voice. Then I would get up and go. I know her prayers followed.
I thank God for my praying Mom today.