Yesterday on my cottage by the sea blog I wrote about accompanying my 92 year old friend as she was dying. Throughout the week her friends from church came and went, sitting with her at the hospital. We weren’t there all the time, but we sensed that she knew she was not alone, especially toward the end when she was not conscious. It felt like our physical presence extend to the times when no one was in the room.
My friend and I did a lot of praying. Repeatedly she would say, “I think it’s time for a prayer,” and I would start. Then she would take over and the prayer would drift into a conversation, or more accurately, a stream of consciousness of memories. If you were listening in you’d be hard pressed to identify a prayer, but to me that’s what it felt like, from the moment I entered the room until I left. And I trust that it continued until the next visitor entered the room.
I believe and have come to know that when we enter the valley of the shadow of death, our entire life becomes prayer. How comforting is that? VERY!
My friend and I did a lot of praying. Repeatedly she would say, “I think it’s time for a prayer,” and I would start. Then she would take over and the prayer would drift into a conversation, or more accurately, a stream of consciousness of memories. If you were listening in you’d be hard pressed to identify a prayer, but to me that’s what it felt like, from the moment I entered the room until I left. And I trust that it continued until the next visitor entered the room.
I believe and have come to know that when we enter the valley of the shadow of death, our entire life becomes prayer. How comforting is that? VERY!
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