I Believe In the Power of Prayer
Yesterday I hiked alone. Music turned up, smiling at a lady who went by with her dog...I was the only one on the mountain in the late afternoon, watching the sun sink slowly.
I got about halfway up when I saw paper strewn all over the rocky pathway, then I looked around, and it was everywhere. Imagine a sea of notepad paper with writing on it on the ground in spots every here and there. There were literally hundreds of them.
I thought it was trash blown there by the wind, and bent to pick one up, wondering how long it would take for me to remove it all.
That was when I saw the nails. Huge nails, like the type they use to build homes, quite thick and what I would assume would be at least 3 inches long.
Going down on my knees, not really believing what I was seeing, I read some of these papers, they were nailed to the ground, each and every one of them...and in Arizona that is a feat, our ground here is VERY hard.
Written by children. Crying out to God. Help my mother, who is dying. Asking for someone's salvation. My daddy does not have a job. Tears sprang to my eyes, it was very hard to hold in the shock and dismay. And then a respect flowed into me. These children are asking for help from the only one they know can help them. The world is such a cold place sometimes, and they have no where else to turn.
You see, my church is right there. Just a few feet from the foot of the mountain. I'm sure it was their idea of therapy to let these kids put their prayers on the mountain where they can release some of the horror of their young lives. I just wish I could have read them all...but after a few, I realized they are not there for me to read, but for God to know their hearts.
Pray for them, I know after seeing this, I did.
I got about halfway up when I saw paper strewn all over the rocky pathway, then I looked around, and it was everywhere. Imagine a sea of notepad paper with writing on it on the ground in spots every here and there. There were literally hundreds of them.
I thought it was trash blown there by the wind, and bent to pick one up, wondering how long it would take for me to remove it all.
That was when I saw the nails. Huge nails, like the type they use to build homes, quite thick and what I would assume would be at least 3 inches long.
Going down on my knees, not really believing what I was seeing, I read some of these papers, they were nailed to the ground, each and every one of them...and in Arizona that is a feat, our ground here is VERY hard.
Written by children. Crying out to God. Help my mother, who is dying. Asking for someone's salvation. My daddy does not have a job. Tears sprang to my eyes, it was very hard to hold in the shock and dismay. And then a respect flowed into me. These children are asking for help from the only one they know can help them. The world is such a cold place sometimes, and they have no where else to turn.
You see, my church is right there. Just a few feet from the foot of the mountain. I'm sure it was their idea of therapy to let these kids put their prayers on the mountain where they can release some of the horror of their young lives. I just wish I could have read them all...but after a few, I realized they are not there for me to read, but for God to know their hearts.
Pray for them, I know after seeing this, I did.
By:
genspirii
Age:
46-50
,
Female
