I curl my toes in the warm sand as the waves gently swish on the shoreline. Sweat trickles in rivulets down my back as the hot sun beats upon my head. I fumble with the buttons on my thick winter coat. Frustration overcomes me as I am unable to undo them, yet again. Suddenly, a shrill buzzing disrupts my actions.
“7:00” comes into focus. I reach out my hand and hit the button. The buzzing stops.
I sigh. I had intended to spring out of bed bright and early this morning. Instead, my body feels like lead. I haul myself upright.
The enemy is determined to turn me into a sloth.
The previous night I had made the decision that prayer would be my priority this morning. I would head to the track—my usual place to pray—at 7:15am. Even though finishing my book proposal, producing a one sheet, and researching publishers in preparation for my appointments are necessary; prayer is more urgent—for myself, and my prayer partner.
I’m running 30 minutes late.
I scan the track for Abraham. Lord, please don’t let him be here this morning. I know he loves to chat and I should tell him I use this time to pray, but please NOT this morning.
I see no one with his familiar gait.
My body soaks up the warmth from the early morning June sun. Likewise, my spirit experiences the pleasure of the heavenly Father who delights that his child is spending time with him.
For the last month, my daughter has joined me on my early morning walks. We have exercised, talked, and made silent prayer. When she’s a three hour plane ride away at college this September, I will cherish these occasions. This morning, I relish the solitude.
My first request is for my daughter. Today, she is at her internship.
Secondly, I intercede for my She Speaks prayer partner. Even though 2,000 miles separate us, it is easy to pray for her. Her requests are the same as my own—for publishers meetings, communicating effectively with written words, and ignoring the doubts. We have never met; yet she feels like a sister. I smile. She is a sister, for we have the same heavenly Father.
Your shoes of peace are beside her bed this morning waiting for her to slip them on and wear them throughout her day.
I need to wear my own peace slippers as I sense panic rising—a book proposal to finish, a one sheet to start, packing for a vacation in four days time, what to do with teenage twins boys sprawled on the sofas at home on their first day of school-free summer.
I think of my prayer partner as she juggles her own family life—rising early to write before her home stirs and the day is not her own. Put your helmet of salvation on her head to keep her mind free from doubts. Surround her with your belt of truth—strong and sturdy. Give her the exact words to write as her fingers tap the keyboard.
Protected on the outside, we need assurance on the inside. I breathe in deeply. Let us overflow with hope from your Spirit within us.
I want to linger longer but an intended four laps have already become eight.
She Speaks is just around the corner. Yet, with prayer I am prepared.