Abba Father:
People are hurting, Lord.
Real, hard, break-their-heart pains,
That attack & shred their spirits,
Then leave them beaten & used up,
Like used up shells that others,
Other creatures left banged up,
Because it no longer kept,
Off blazing sun and torrential rains.

So many prayer requests, Lord,
Like first time parents and the not even
Quite forty something mom damaged,
So badly in that car accident
A miracle her unborn child survived,
Now she’s fighting for her life back.
And she needs so much help,
Job gone, memory jumbled, disconnected.

A father with oh, so many skin cancers,
They removed most but the others,
Require more intense, deeper surgery
And my friend feels helpless, defeated
Some father’s don’t listen to their children,
It could all be benign or not,
But she’s seriously scared,
And fear makes positives into forgeries.

And I’m praying for them Abba,
As I look out over a black sea,
Remembering each person in prayer.
The moon shines silver and stars seem bright,
My own heart pounds hard, harder,
Even in fresh air I struggle to breathe,
Could this be any worse or easier?

Prayer is literally all I can do.
I can’t heal or choose life or death,
But I can pray, sincerely and carefully,
I can lift up specific needs,
Call out their names to you,
I can pray until You move,
I will seize upon Your throne of grace,
And I can do so respectfully.

Because You are God, the Great Physician,
And here we meet for prayer,
We celebrate our victories,
We rejoice over the lives You touch,
You meet me here where I sit apart,
In or near this Cottage-by-the-Sea,
Praying for people, praying for hearts,
Praying defeats will turn into celebrations.
—Amen

—Donna