I’ve been cleaning out and rearranging my office this week, and it’s been fun re-reading some of the many articles I’ve written over the years, along with my sons’ college recommendation and acceptance letters (Yep, still in folders after many years but soon to be en route to my boys!). I’m already feeling lighter, and reading all those articles reminded me that I am, indeed, a writer.
While going through some files, I happened upon a sheet of notebook paper that I must have written the summer of 2020, based on the names I mention (and don’t mention) in it. I don’t recall why I wrote what I wrote on both sides of the sheet, but I think it must have been part of an exercise I did at a retreat or within one of my Holy Yoga groups. One side is my letter to God, and the other is my imagined letter from Him. I’ll bare my soul here and share this with you:
I thank you so much for my life, Thank you for life and breath and movement. Thank you for giving me two healthy boys, for the love Russ and I had, and for saving Russ’s life and our marriage by allowing a dump truck to shake things up.
I praise you for my tribes: My Holy Yoga friends and my Spring Branch girls, especially.
I praise you that I had the resources to raise my boys and to give them a good life and a solid foundation. Forgive me (again!) for my many mistakes and for not always modeling good money management or protecting my and our resources.
Show me, Lord, where you want me. Help me trust completely as I seek to do your will.
I am so grateful that YOU are grateful! Thank you for praising me and loving me. I am glad you can see the positive life changes and lessons in the storms of your life.
Trust me, Amy. I have protected you on the road countless times, and I have kept you from trouble, just like today when you came thisclose to hitting a cyclist. Ralph affirmed you. Cindy affirmed you. Tasha affirmed you. Keep trusting me, keep an open heart and mind, and rest. Allow me to lead you. Stop trying to control!
Let me deal with _______. I brought you together for a reason. You’ll learn what that is. Live your life. Show love and respect as you feel led, and leave him to me.
For the life of me, I don’t recall who Ralph is. I have a cousin named Ralph, but I haven’t seen him in years. Hopefully, I’ll think of it.
Sometimes I scribble prayers. I was going through a very rough time last spring… very rough. It was a combination of things, but mainly some family matters and a consulting job which I should never have taken. During a meeting one day, I scribbled a prayer for one of my sons. No one knew I was writing this prayer (except God and me), but my heart was not in the meeting… only with my child at that moment.
I believe God hears our prayers. It’s a mystery, no doubt, when you think that millions of people are likely praying at the same time all over the world while sitting in their cozy chairs or driving down the highway or tending sheep or walking miles to get water or folding clothes in a retail store. It’s a mystery but one to which I cling.
Scribbled prayers… amen!
And I really hope I remember who Ralph is. He DID affirm me, after all!
Amy Walton is a certified life and grief coach living in coastal Virginia. She’s a Christian blogger, a yoga instructor, and a teacher who loves empowering women to live their best lives to the glory of God. Connect with her at firstname.lastname@example.org.