I got a card in the mail yesterday from a friend who lives way over yonder from me. The waves that wash upon on his beach come from the Atlantic Ocean, that’s how far away he is.
The card was simple. It said something about it seeming like I was going through something hard and he wanted me to know he was praying for me.
I had not told him, or very many for that matter, about the hard thing. It was all too discombobulating. One minute you are going about your daily routine and the next minute your daily routine gets a short in it and everything goes dark momentarily until you begin to grope around, find the familiar and make your way out of the darkness.
Many of you have been praying. You have sent texts. You have sent messages. You have called.
Sometimes it seems like my whole life has been one of transitions. Do you ever feel that way or is that just the result of being an Army Brat? Transitions are the norm for military families. I used to think my mother couldn’t stay in one place for more than three years before she would have to pack up and move. Maybe military families are the modern day nomads.
The beauty of all that is I have found community from coast to coast, literally. It was a great comfort to me during this latest time of transition that I knew people were praying from Boston to Birmingham, from Grants Pass to Navarre Beach.
If I could, I would send you each a personal note of thanks and a bouquet of bright orange flowers. I would wrap you in my arms and give you a long hug. After a bit of rough turbulence and an unexpected twist of fate, and because of your prayers, I come away from all of this bemused, a bit disheveled, perhaps, but joyful, nonetheless.
And humored once again by the way God plots our narratives. He is the master at irony.
Karen Spears Zacharias is author of Burdy (Mercer University Press).