I am often prepared for how to pray while reading Christian novels. A recent one had this simple prayer line.
The author of the Mountain Series wrote, “Lord, protect her. Do what I can’t.”
I adapt the prayer saying, “Lord, protect them. Do what I can’t.”
I took a walk after writing yesterday’s entry. That is when I remembered the novel and the line I copied. The Mountain Series by Misty M. Beller is full of such simple prayers. I read these, copy and paste them in my electronic notes knowing I will need them later. She seems to write this sort of prayer every time her character realizes they have moved away from trusting God and then the character returns with a simple declaration of faith.
So Monday morning, walking and trying to clear my brain for another blog entry, I prayed the above prayer and am writing it to each of you. “Lord, protect. Do what I cannot.” Brother Lawrence tells us that useless thoughts spoil everything and much mischief starts there…exact quote from the book of his letters is next.
“That useless thoughts spoil all: that the mischief began there; but that we ought to reject them, as soon as we perceived their impertinence to the matter in hand, or our salvation; and return to our communion with GOD.”
Words that bring life and repel darkness. Certainly easy to read and type. SO much harder to put into practice. Mental illness is so painful for the family members to watch. We get dragged into it when words or texts are flying with untrue accusations, most of which will never receive an apology. What does one do with those wounds?
I cannot tell you what years and years of this accomplishes. At the end of that first day this is how I felt.

Empty, hollow, almost unable to form a coherent sentence. Wondering what positive impact my life has ever made in this person and these situations.
I was reminded that the last response I made to a hurtful text was, “You are hurting all the ones who love you the most.” The response seemed to be hugely sarcastic, “Thanks for the advice.” Then crickets.
Perhaps there was an impact from my words. Maybe a glimmer of light broke through from the Lord’s hand? God knows. I learned later that shortly thereafter, things began to turn around for the better.
I went to sleep asking the Lord to help me rest and not obsess over all that had been said and done not only that day, but over the weeks, over the years leading up to this event.
I was truly amazed when I awoke the next morning and realized I had slept all the way through the night.
I am reminded as I write this that my mother once made pickled watermelon rinds.

So perhaps that is my guidance. Take the words and the hurt and the anguish. Clean down to the rind. Cook it is the forgiveness of Christ adding the sweetness of His Presence. Serve it up as an offering on his banqueting table?



















