Braided Prayers: (Memoirs of a Teenage Author)

(This is post #3 of the My Journey to Gritty: Memoirs of a Teenage Author series)

Don’t ask me how, but somehow I always knew that I would get married someday.
Then, when I was a teenager, my mom encouraged me to start praying for my husband. After all, she had prayed for Dad. (Granted, it had mostly been prayers for blue eyes and blond hair. But it was a start!)
Her words inspired me. I thought, "why not pray for my husband now?" I was certain that that boy/man was walking the earth at that very moment. Surely he needed all the help and prayer support he could get!
Therefore, every night, I sat down on my bed, and I braided my hair. With each weave, I prayed for “my future husband”.


What did I pray? Oh, the usuals.
“Please unify us in every way. May he be a good man. May he like kids. May he love me soooo much!” Stuff like that.
Then I lay down and went to sleep, still coming up with things to pray.
Every night I did this. I would braid my hair before bed, and I would pray for my husband. Then, after a year or so, I unexpectedly got some direction in my praying. The Spirit began whispering to me.
“If your husband loves Me above all else, he’ll gradually learn all those things. If he loves Me, he’ll be a good man, and he’ll treat you and your children right, because I’ll teach him how to do it.”
So from then on, I started praying that above all else.
“Father, draw him close to You. Teach me how to lift him up before Your throne, even if I have to get under his muddy feet and push him up there, give me the love and strength to do that.”

This praying-for-my-husband thing became a passion, almost an obsession at times. Even though I had never met the man, gradually, the more I prayed for him, the more direction I would receive about him. Sometimes I would just know he was going through a difficult trial. And sometimes I would just know that he was happy.
The guy seemed upset most of the time though. He needed a lot of help, I felt it deep down in my soul.
I spoke to my parents about my intuitions, and they would kinda smile and say, “That’s great, sweetheart.”
After all, what do you say to a crazy teenage girl that thinks God is telling her how to specifically pray for her someday-husband?

As the months passed, I learned more and more about him. In fact, I thought that I knew him so well already, surely I would instantly recognize him when we finally met.
Ha…ha…

Hazy and Maia were a great inspiration for me during this time. For a million and a half reasons.

“Those whose spirits stray will come to understand.” I whispered as I stroked her head. “He’s just lost and alone. Not hopeless. You’re doing all you can. The best anyone can do is pray.”
“He seems… so… unreachable!” She quietly sobbed. “So dark and cold and alone and helpless and hard! It hurts! I know it does not have to be that way! He is the one clinging to it! If he would just let go! It makes my heart hurt! I feel it! Their hurt! His and God’s! So alike but so different! I feel useless and stuck in the middle of it!”
“You know what that is, don’t you, sweetheart?” I asked as I watched Hazael light up his pipe, then reach for his coat to grab his book. “Being an intercessor, right?”
She sounded irritated as she muttered. “That is not my gift. I did not sign up for this! Any of it! My heart got involved without my permission and now…”
A deep sob pulled her confession up with it. “It is broken!”

He was completely ignorant that she even cared as he sat over there in the darkness.

Click here to read the next post in this series: HELLP Syndrome

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