On my own...
Last night my family had a prayer get together for my uncle.
My mother lit her candles and put up images of all her saints and we prayed for the salvation of my uncle's soul.
A prayer.
I wondered if these peoples faith and repeated words to the lord had any impact on the placement of my uncles soul, if there was placement at all.
I mumbled along to the prayers I had been forced to learn as a child.
Mary, beg for him.
Mother of Christ, beg for him.
Temple of purity, beg for him.
Beg for him.
Father have mercy.
My mother occasionally looked up at the heavens. Her eyes watery. Her face red. Every tear that fell from her cheek was a plea. I was lost. 45 minutes we were kneeled in prayer. A sacrifice I suppose. We concluded with the lords prayer and the sign of the cross upon ourselves. Id forgotten how to do that. I fumbled imitating my mother. First the forehead, then the chest, left shoulder, right shoulder, end at your lips and kiss the cross you made with your fingers. For protection. Safety. Relief.
45 minutes, I kneeled and observed. Everyones eyes reflected faith and devotion. I wondered if my questioning was making an impact on the prayers, and if my doubts were interfering with deliverance. I wanted what they had. I wanted their beliefs. I stopped mumbling the repeated words. And I prayed on my own.
I prayed for my mother, I prayed for her sorrow and the pain to leave. While they repeated, over and over for the lord to save his soul, I prayed for my mother to be well.
They say faith can move mountains.
Who knows maybe they did save my uncles soul last night with their repeated prayers.
Me? I moved something bigger. Something that outweights any mountain on this disturbed planet we call earth.
My faith didnt move a mountain. No. My faith moved a burden in my mothers heart.
Because for the first time in four days, I saw my mother smile.
My mother lit her candles and put up images of all her saints and we prayed for the salvation of my uncle's soul.
A prayer.
I wondered if these peoples faith and repeated words to the lord had any impact on the placement of my uncles soul, if there was placement at all.
I mumbled along to the prayers I had been forced to learn as a child.
Mary, beg for him.
Mother of Christ, beg for him.
Temple of purity, beg for him.
Beg for him.
Father have mercy.
My mother occasionally looked up at the heavens. Her eyes watery. Her face red. Every tear that fell from her cheek was a plea. I was lost. 45 minutes we were kneeled in prayer. A sacrifice I suppose. We concluded with the lords prayer and the sign of the cross upon ourselves. Id forgotten how to do that. I fumbled imitating my mother. First the forehead, then the chest, left shoulder, right shoulder, end at your lips and kiss the cross you made with your fingers. For protection. Safety. Relief.
45 minutes, I kneeled and observed. Everyones eyes reflected faith and devotion. I wondered if my questioning was making an impact on the prayers, and if my doubts were interfering with deliverance. I wanted what they had. I wanted their beliefs. I stopped mumbling the repeated words. And I prayed on my own.
I prayed for my mother, I prayed for her sorrow and the pain to leave. While they repeated, over and over for the lord to save his soul, I prayed for my mother to be well.
They say faith can move mountains.
Who knows maybe they did save my uncles soul last night with their repeated prayers.
Me? I moved something bigger. Something that outweights any mountain on this disturbed planet we call earth.
My faith didnt move a mountain. No. My faith moved a burden in my mothers heart.
Because for the first time in four days, I saw my mother smile.