I found an old journal today.
Growing up I was taught that Sunday’s were ‘go to church’ day. We got up early and put on our pretty dresses and good shoes. Grabbed our Bible and it was off to church we went. I don’t remember much about what I learned or what I did. But I remember we did it every Sunday.
As I got older church quietly left my Sunday routine. It was replaced with other teachings. Mom had a way about her–yes indeed! I am so grateful for being allowed to explore my faith. But no matter what religion I studied there was always this rumbling that there was something more.
Today, I follow the Red Road and this past Sunday we attended our community sweat lodge (my church). Lots of prayers and songs, and good friends. When all the praying was done, we crawled out and slowly began our re-entry to this every day life–A/C, food, water, dogs, radio, golf. It was a good day. I felt really good and was grateful for all the blessings I had received over the years. How lucky I am.
As the people were leaving to go home the phone rang. It was friend I had not talked to in a month or so. She called to talk about the pain in her neck. It had gotten worse and now the left side of her body was affected. We talked for a while and I promised to make ‘ties’. I wished there was something more I could do. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in so much pain that you can’t hug or be hugged?
The people were gone now and I was left sitting quietly on the couch. Then I hear my mind say: “There is always one more person to pray for.”
…even after the ceremony is complete and the people go home, and the kids go to sleep, and the phone rings….