Faith and Me

A few days ago I allowed someone to shake my faith and steal my joy. A person's words caused me to discard all the blessings and miracles I've witnessed over the past few weeks. At first I was angry at this person. I blamed her for ruining my perception of God's movement in my life. I blamed other christian's for not fighting against these joy stealers on my behalf. I was confused, hopeless and lost. I was mad. I was mad for days. Then mad turned to sad and sad turned to disappointment...in myself.

I realize that my spiritual foundation these days is quite unstable. It must be. If something as simple as a persons opinion could rock my spirituality to the core then I'm not as solid as I thought. I am a believer in the power of prayer. I am a believer in the power of healing touch. I am a believer in the power of faith. I have faith in God, faith in family, and faith in true friends. Often times what I lack is faith in ME.

I haven't ask God for help in a long time because I don't believe I'm worthy. I believe in the power of prayer but I haven't prayed for my friend because it's such an important prayer I feel like it should come from someone super church-y or at least in the church choir. I've heard some pretty amazing prayers these last few weeks. These mothers of the church come through the ICU doors bringing light as well as healing into the room. The humming of old hymns transports everyone's souls within earshot to distant lands. The words they speak bring answers, love, blessings, lessons, scolding, warnings without judgement, and relief. I thank them often because although they come for him they are also healing me.

Many people have told me to pray for him. I try. I close my eyes. I open my eyes. I try to remember prayers I've heard before. I forget them all. I open my mouth to speak. No words, only tears.
Can tears count as prayers? Each tear that falls represents all that was, is and will be.