Prayer Dents

On a sweltering July day in Managua, Nicaragua, thirteen years ago, I met a prayer warrior.


I was in Nicaragua for two weeks with a small group of teenagers and adults from church, to build a school shelter and put on puppet shows for the local kids. One morning, our youth pastor took us to a poor section of town to meet a woman named Ruby. We smiled awkwardly at neighbors who came out of their tiny houses as we followed the pastor like ducklings through dirt and debris. Then, we came to Ruby’s house.


I was nineteen, Ruby was older. How much older? I have no idea. From my nineteen year old perspective, she looked at least fifty, but not past seventy. I was tall, Ruby was shorter. The top of her head came just to my armpit level. Her graying black curls peeked out from under a little white bonnet that reminded me of Strawberry Shortcake’s hat. Ruby wore a vivid, dark pink dress and her round, tan face was alive with well worn smile lines.


She invited us in, and we perched on stools and straight back chairs around her rocking chair. Every chair, table, and surface was adorned with some colorful bit of crochet work. Even the knobs at the top of Ruby’s rocking chair had little crochet hats, mimicking her own cap. She rocked and smiled at us, her legs too short for her feet to touch the ground.

Our pastor translated for us as Ruby told us of her work in the neighborhood. We were visitors for a couple of hours, while she had devoted her life to praying for and reaching out to the troubled young people there. At one point, she lifted her hem just enough to show us her knees. They were black, bruised, and each had a gnarled protrusion. Why? Because of prayer. Every morning, she spent hours on her knees, praying for the youth in her neighborhood. Warrior is the only word for her. Ruby went to battle. It showed in the marks on her knees and in the young people who turned from drugs and now follow Jesus.


This July, I’ve had the privilege of spending slow mornings reading the Bible and journaling prayers with God. I feel like communication with God opens up better when I write and don’t look at the clock. This morning, my finger began to hurt where the pen pushes into it. I rubbed the side of my finger gently with my thumb. There’s a dent there. I know it’s from a lifetime of writing (and probably holding my pen too tightly, like I tell my students not to), but it made me think of Ruby’s prayer knees. I like to think that my dented finger is the beginning of my badge of prayer warrior-ship. Ruby battled on her knees, and I battle with pen and journal. I hope that like Ruby, I will begin to see my community blessed and thriving as God answers prayers and has authority in all of our lives.


Make a dent today.

Raising Normal

“How are you?”

It’s a simple question, exchanged countless times every day. The responses are predictable: fine, great, okay, not bad, wonderful. But each person has their own inner metric for determining how they answer. We all have an individual sense of normal.


Six months ago, I was in a season of life in which I regularly woke up with a sense of dread and panic. It was an act of will to get up, get dressed, and go to work. My insides were jumpy, on edge. The slightest provocation led to gushes of tears and often fits of anger. I was tired. So very tired. A good day involved no panic attacks, and some quality time with loved ones. I’d think about times in my life when everything felt sunnier, but engaging in positive activities did little for my outlook. Not knowing how to cross these barriers to “better”, my normal was set.


“How are you?”
[hmmmm…. I am out of bed, trying to take care of the things for which I’m responsible….] “I’m fine!”

Last February, I learned that I have celiac disease. Many of my struggles now made better sense, in light of my body’s need for different nutrition. A week into the dietary changes, I called my boyfriend on my way to work because something extraordinary had happened: I felt happy.


In June, I learned of more food allergies and my diet has shifted once more. Now that it is summer, I have the space to spend large chunks of time reading the Word and resting. I’ve had the energy to pursue the things on my heart, like writing more and leading a dance group at church.


With every passing day, my normal is raising higher and higher. Normal now means that I am happy, hopeful, and free of fear. I have energy and am taking steps to serve others, instead of being too exhausted to try.


This has a lot to do with the actions I’ve taken, and it also has nothing to do with the actions. I wouldn’t have been able to take any action had it not been for a loving God who saw my pain and revealed the next step to take.

My normal will be stuck in the mud as long as I believe that my efforts will save me. God has a normal for me that surpasses any earthly normal I could ever imagine.


I am so glad to feel healthy and happy. And, I am not done. I want God to raise normal again. I want normal to be a life of miracles, healings, my family and community living in relationship with God, giving until it hurts, and seeing evil cease.


“How are you?”
[hmmmm….I saw a woman with cancer be totally healed, I fed some hungry people today…] “I’m fine!”

Whatever your normal is today, I pray that you would take it to God and receive a vision for all your life is, in Christ.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!"

-2 Corinthians 5:17

Bless Your Heart

I used to cringe at that phrase.
It tastes like it’s been soaked in condescendence.
Words tagged on to otherwise derogatory comments,
Like a light sprinkling of sugar in a glass full of vinegar.
When the sweater she knitted is misshapen,
Bless her heart for trying.
Or when a child helps sweep the floor and makes a bigger mess,
Bless his little heart.


It is funny, then, that the phrase I’ve judged
As judgmental
Is the very attitude I now find God asking me to adopt.


A sizeable room in the square footage of my thought life
Has been devoted to fault-finding,
Nit-picking,
And focus on outward appearances.


I serve an X-ray vision kind of God,
One who cares greatly about
All things internal.
He tends our heart’s wellspring,
Knowing that righteous actions will follow.


So, I want to say
To all those upon whom I’ve looked with disapproval,
For reasons that seemed quite crucial –
Not picking up after your dog, for instance,
Or you, who honked at me unfairly that one time,
And the girl at the party who looked so much prettier than everyone else,
To my own family and friends,

Bless your heart.
I choose to bless the passions and yearnings the Lord has placed there.
I ask Him to let me see you with His eyes,
That I may better pray for you,
Listen to you,
Support and encourage you.
And bless all the beautiful things He is doing
Right there in your heart.