I dry some crystal bowls
that my daughter has used as she entertained friends. They had made a craft with cocoa and the
tiniest specks of cocoa dust fill the smallest portions of etched glass. I dip in water, I scrub with a delicate brush
and then I wipe over and over again.
The cocoa finally
moves the etching does not. I wonder if my
mother might have a glimpse of this moment.
Her granddaughter that bears her name using some of her fondest
belongings.
I had told mother about this
Lily, the one that was coming from across the world. But mother didn’t live to see her. Instead, God chose to have mother live
on through Lily. Lily adores all
things beautiful; she is creative, caring, quiet and hysterically funny. She is just like mother.
Etchings, they are
things that carve into your memory and will never leave. I have many.
I remember the day I
fell in love with France. It was my
first day there as a student. I had been
there before in my childhood but never to the south, never to the sea, never
with time as my friend and determination as my guide.
I sat and ordered
lunch looking across the promenade at the sea.
I ordered my salad in the language although I felt too stupid and far
too young.
I remember tasting the
Provencal dish and drinking my water out of a goblet. I was sure I saw crystals in the sea across
from me and I was sure heaven would be exactly like this. It etched.
Thirty years later and
my family and I returned. I had kept
these memories distant wondering if I could ever relive them and almost not
wanting too. Some memories are like
that, meant to be held and treasured.
Some are meant to be buried in the most fertile soil to grow and blossom
again. This was one of those
flowers. My family embraced the memory,
they too fell in love and we all felt as if we had tasted a bit of heaven.
Then in a moment, a
moment we were all rushing to vacation Bible school, we hear the newsman tell
us in that exact spot, someone had willfully destroyed hundreds of lives.
I was busy, charged
with a handful of six-year olds that evening I could not correlate the two, my
etching and my listening.
I came home, kissed
the children good night and began to read until the wee hours of the
morning. The images were ghastly, the
truth worse.
These days, these
events, as if we have traveled back to the Old Testament where killing for
misplaced passion seems almost normal. I
continue to read fueled with the thoughts of what I could do, what my family
could do to make this better to make us whole, to correct this land before my
children and their children take the reins of life.
I read we must talk to
those who are different than us.
I
agree.
We must see life
through their lens.
I agree.
We must be the change
we want to see.
I agree.
We must pray.
I agree, but what dear one are we to pray
for?
I believe we have
misplaced the command and misunderstood the direction to pray and to fast for
our enemies. We have resisted
calling this war, and thus we have been slow to name the enemy. For us, the enemy has only one name. Quite frankly, prayer is our best weapon.
We pray for the enemies
that he or she will see truth, heavenly, divine, life saving, peace giving,
fear squashing truth.
We will pray that evil
in all its forms will be restrained. And
in the meantime, we will have conversations.
We will choose a lens we have not yet looked through. And we will not allow the news or the notions
of what a particular group of people did to etch into our minds or our souls.
George Bush profoundly
said, “Too often, we judge
other groups by their worst examples while judging ourselves by our best
intentions.” O, Beloved, I am
guilty.
We have a great task
ahead of us. We have great days ahead of
us. The church is at a unique and
historic position. We hold pencils and keyboards and words that can release
freedom and destroy fear. We must first and foremost, today and tomorrow, pray
for our enemies.
The Holy Spirit is a
world traveler. He places dreams where
only nightmares exist. Unleash Him
through your prayers.
You have heard that it
was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’ said Jesus in his
famous Sermon on the Mount. “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for
those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in
heaven." Matthew 5:43
We don’t give up being brave
We don’t give up trusting
We don’t give up hope-
We give up our fear.
Ann Voskamp
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