When Prayers Don't Work

There are days where, I admit, prayer doesn't seem to work. Life can sometimes take your dreams and smash them into tiny little bits and crush them to dust like a cigarette smothered under the sole of a trucker's boot. This was one of those weeks that kicked me in the gut and reminded me that I had one of those dreams that's now only fragments, bits and pieces, like shards of glass on my feet.

But grilled into me bit by bit by my parents from day one on was that one rule in life: you better show up for life with all the gusto you have. And you better show up with a few things you can't shake off-- kindness, goodness, perseverance and tenacity to do what's right. And they warned me, a lot of people don't learn that lesson. But you better. And you better be ready to lead the way.   

Yet sometimes, you just don't want to play by those rules.

You want to quit. You want to check out. Like so many people do. Be lazy.  Be a nobody. Don't try to make things better. Take the easy way out. Instead of the high road, take the fun road.

When I get like that, I can feel it come on like a cold. You feel sore. Your voice hurts. Your bones are extra tired.

Those are the days I run. I get on my shoes and run down a dirt path, where dust kicks up behind me.

I really shouldn't run.  My body has hit the ground, literally, a few too many times. I did a few too many flips as a kid, four hours a day, and pounded cartilage into bits. I have metal parts in one leg.  I have an arm with nerve damage. A ripped up ankle that swelled up like an eggplant. I have a nose that was reconstructed from back flipping onto it.  I have thumbs with cartilage damage. A toe that's been broken so many times, it bends sideways. Pounding my legs further with running isn't the brightest thing to do on the planet.

But it's what I do. Today, a gorgeous warm Fall day, the day you can almost feel still green leaves dying in the burning sun, I took off running. On go the running shoes and I blast outside.

Somedays sitting home with my head down and hoping for something, with my hands folded, doesn't get me anything. When I run, my burdens fall away, I'm reminded what a lucky lucky person I am, and what wonderful gifts we have here because of the dedicated people around us.   

Gasping for air by running too hard breathes new life into me. I return home grateful. Untie the laces, pull off shoes and with it all goes the shards of broken dreams too. I come to know, God does answer that unexpected prayer.

Prayer cannot reverse the past, nor undo the pain of something lost, nor rewind the moment when someone crashed into your life with ill intent. I know there are prayer pundits out there who promise if you pray hard, you get what you want. But life is not a restaurant where you get to order take out.  God isn't either.

He asks us to run. Not literally like I do and He probably wishes I wouldn't pound my joints so hard.  But He asks of us for the kind of prayer that gives us the energy to take off running to rebuild what evil tries to grind down. To kick up the dust behind us, and as I wrote before, we do have dust beat.

Broken dreams can leave us gasping for air. But God's race pounds us harder. God's race asks more of us. It asks us to start up where others left off. To follow through when others fall short. In doing so, instead of grinding us down like a damaged cigarette tossed on the ground, our life can win the battle as we show up for life with all the gusto we have. And we show up with the elements that not even broken dreams can shake off unless we choose to shed them-- kindness, goodness, perseverance and the tenacity to do what's right.

Prayers asking to keep those elements close to our heart do work - they are always answered.

Prayer gives us the strength to get our running shoes on and tear down that path of tenacity, bundling it all in the strength that keeps kindness close.

Comments

[KY Woman]

I don't run much. Mine is working in the garden. Somewhere in the past, I would drag out, questioning God "WHY?". After several hours toiling in the dirt, I could look up and say "Thank You God". Even now without a garden to tend, yard work is enough to restore my center so that I still believe in the goodness of man and Thank God I am still here. There is a purpose.