The woman at church

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you." — Isaiah 43:2

There is a woman at church I have been praying for and I do not know how she is doing this week because I have not seen her since last Sunday and I did not ask then and she did not offer.

I know what she is carrying because I have carried it. Not the same weight but the same shape. The shape of sitting with someone whose body is leaving and not being able to do anything about it except be in the room. I did that for Earl for the better part of a year and the room got smaller every week and the person I was sitting with got quieter and there is no preparing for it and no getting used to it and no way through it except through it.

I do not know her husband. I know her. I know the way her shoulders are set when she comes through the door of the church and I know the way she holds her purse close to her body as if she needs both hands for something and does not have enough to spare. I know she is measuring the distance between where she is and where she needs to be and I know that distance changes every day.

Her name is in the back of my journal with the others. I have not crossed it out. I will not cross it out until something in me says it is finished and I do not know when that will be. In the meantime I say her name in the morning and I carry her the only way I know how, which is to hold her up to God and trust that he knows what to do with what I am handing him.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.