Covered By Prayer

I am not a crafty person. I don't knit or crochet (like my grandmother did), nor do I sew except perhaps to repair a hem or reattach a button now and again. Imagine, then, my mild sense of panic when a dear friend called to ask me if I would make a prayer shawl for her sister. This friend is someone I would do anything for—but admittedly—I didn't "know" how to make a prayer shawl. Between the moment she asked me to do this task and the time she explained what was involved, I did the only thing I knew to do which was to whisper a prayer for help to God who I knew would not lead me down a path where I was not following divine guidance. And so, I answered honestly, and I said while I was willing to do anything to help, I didn't have a clue how to do what she was asking of me.

There was a certain sense of urgency in this request because my friend planned to go visit her sister the next day, and the prayer shawl needed to go with her. And, so I said yes, not out of a sense of hubris because in that moment all I was feeling was fear and lack of confidence. What my friend assured me of was that the process of “making” the shawl was simple; the important part was the prayer. I knew, at least, that I could pray, and so I was mostly relieved.

When she arrived, she showed me a beautiful piece of fabric that was soft and warm. She told me it reminded her of her sister. Then she showed me how to cut the ends and tie the knots. She told me that as I cut each strand I was to pray on it, then as I tied the knot I was to also pray. I left the fabric on my table for the majority of the day because I needed to sit with God a little before I actually set out to put that kind of intercession into something that a person would wear around her shoulders as she recovered from a very invasive surgery.

After a nap, I felt ready, and I sat at my table cutting the strands. From time to time I stopped and buried my face in the fabric and prayed. I prayed for the doctors, for the nurses, for the specialists, for the anesthesiologist, for the technicians, for the others who were praying—and I also prayed for another friend’s sister with the same name who finally went to God because of the same illness. I prayed over and over for my friend's sister—for her recovery, for her prognosis to be better than expected, for her dad, her husband, and for my friend who cares so much for her sister.

Intercession is not easy work; I was exhausted when I finished the task to which I had committed my afternoon and evening. Tomorrow, I will need to rise early to take the shawl to my parish church in order to get our priest to bless it between services and have it back here at my house so that my friend can leave on her journey to see her sister.

When my friend's sister wears her shawl, it will be full of God's healing power. Whether she recovers from her illness or not, I know that I have done what God and my friend needed me to do: I was both available and vulnerable. As I step out in faith each and every day, that is what I seek: to embrace the opportunity to grow in grace and relationship with the Christ who is my Lord.