prayers, pray-ers and grace

I have been "praying without ceasing" for the past twenty four hours, one of those please, please, please prayers. So when I woke up early this morning, my morning prayer examined my praying. I have two kinds of prayer, thank you prayers and please prayers. Yesterday was a day full of both.
As I woke to the sound of the telephone in the night and my oldest daughter’s voice telling me they were grounded in Italy, her tears kicked my pray-er in gear. Her sons are anxious to see her and she is ready to be home. I e-mailed my friend who prays with me and asked her to pray especially for Megan. Mama drove up for our morning check-in and I gave thanks for having her near while I prayed for Judy whose mom is dying. I prayed for Lisa who is grieving her mom’s death still. When I sat down to write I prayed for my friend Cindy who is writing a book of healing and exploration. On my drive into town, I passed by Tina and Vince’s house. She was at dialysis and his cancer has returned. I sent prayers of blessing winging through space to the dialysis center where they waited to come home. At supper that night, we said grace, a word of thanks for the food on our table, for the friends and family we love, for the farm garden that grew the vegetables we were eating. And so it was all day, full of prayers.
My friend Pitts and I had a conversation about prayer some years ago. She said she had changed her mind about prayer as she got older and smarter. As she began her career as a religious professional, she wasn’t sure prayer did any good for any one except the pray-er. Now she believed in prayer and its unseen power... still unsure of how or when prayer worked. Most of us give lip service to prayer but don’t really believe in it. If we did, we would be more cautious in our praying.
Telling someone you pray is risky business. Many in my generation, the sixties kids, were raised on a steady diet of close your eyes and pray... bedtime prayers, grace at the table, public prayers at ball games and in church. But Viet Nam and the Civil Rights struggle, assassinations of president and presidential candidate and civil rights leader, riots in our cities and the distrust of our political system seemed beyond the power of our prayer. And yet... what else could I do but pray? I couldn’t be Jesus and bring the dead soldiers back to life. I couldn’t give the garbage collectors in Memphis a fair wage. I couldn’t quiet the flames of hatred and fear in the cities. But I could pray. So I did, quietly. I didn’t want anyone to think I was one of those uneducated, irrational believers. I got older and some wiser... think what you will... I pray. I talk about prayer with my friends. I have "prayer partners"(remember that phrase?) And we, like children determined to be heard, pester God with our prayers, trusting God our Father and Mother, will eventually respond.
The power of focused energy sent spinning out into the time and space continuum towards God must make a difference since nothing in creation is destroyed, only transformed. These winged petitions and grace-full sighs make their way to the Source of All Being, One who Cares, and as I am transformed by the act of praying, I believe God is also transformed. God must be renewed by the loving belief that comes as we pray our way through our lives. I am unutterably grateful for the practice and power of prayer. Wherever two or three are gathered together...