How I Met Sam Part 31

And there was evening and there was morning - the first day of being friends.

Don't take that as sacrilegious. It was the creation of something new - and I believe God declared that it was good...

I remember going to Church the following morning and seeing Sam through new eyes. Before he had been a stranger. Now I was beginning to know him. He got up to speak during the Breaking of Bread service. I noticed how when he talked about God he spoke candidly without pretense. He didn't dress up his language or use high theological terms. And in fact, he didn't even have a prayer voice. You may not know what I mean, so I'll explain. Some people talk to you normally in whatever manner is their style, but when it comes time to pray, they adopt a whole other vocabulary and tone. Their speech slows down in reverence. Their words become carefully chosen. I believe this is all out of a sense of respect towards God and I won't knock it - perhaps even I do this? I can't tell - I don't listen to myself pray, but I know God does, and I'm sure He doesn't really care if I use nicer vocab when speaking to Him! At the same time, Sam was not that way. He was direct and simple and expressed thoughts of sincere worship towards Christ in the remembrance of Him. It was beautiful. And I knew I was losing control of my heart in this situation.

At the same time, my heart had somewhat crumpled on the night of the burglary. I don't know a better word for it - withered, dried up, closed up? What term could best describe me at the time? I can't say. It was like unreality and trauma and happiness and fear all wrapped into one.



Comments

  1. Jessica Kramasz31 March 2011 at 09:50

    Thanks for stopping by my blog - I will follow you back.
    I'll have togo back and read the earlier parts of your story, very interesting!
    I totally know what you mean about the prayer voice; I suspect I might even do it. Like somehow God expects us to speak King James English. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just a funny thing we do.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous2 April 2011 at 16:01

    Thank you, Sarah, for taking the time to write out and share your story with us! I appreciate your authentic, candid way of writing.

    One thing that struck me years ago, about our "way of praying" was that if we had parents of two different languages, we would talk to them in their different language. The person who has a KJV Bible may well respond to God with a KJV "language."

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Year Ago Today I nearly lost my son

Image
 You can see that writing for me has ground to a screeching halt (probably literally, in the literal, not figurative, sense). It happened a year ago on this day, one day after Timo's 17th birthday. One year ago on this night, it was a night like any other. Routine. Normal. Kids doing kid things. Caleb and Priscilla back in their first couple weeks of college, away from us. Timo working his full-time tree-trimming job. He had just had a nasty incident with a wasps nest that had caused his entire arm to swell and had to spend a day in bed with fever and chills. He had so many stings we couldn't count them. He was on the mend from that. He had been back at work just a day or two, and the night before we had taken him to an all-you-can-eat dinner which he enjoyed with us - laughing and choosing his favorite foods - mostly meat. We were doing okay. I always carry my own melancholy, and hold a world within me, a reflective, prayerful, yearning. So a year ago, I suppose life was as st
Read more

The Cry of a Mother's Heart

Image
  For Previous post, click here At this time last year I had sat up all night, driven the hour to Chicago, wondering if my child - man-child, but still child - would be alive to greet me on the other side. The moments in the E.R. were stunning, shocking, bewildering. I barely spoke a word. When it was almost time to move him to the helipad, I stood by Timo and stroked his head. In the previous few years he had not been very conversant with me. (Parents who have never had teenage boys: this is normal, not a sign of distress, but a development where they want to make their own way in life. This is not to say they don't need us, and our input - they do, but the dynamics change). I often overstepped bounds with him, and frustrated him. I tried to give him space, but there were times my fears took over. Our relationship was not strained - he knew I loved him, he knew my care for him. But Mothers are often not easy for teenage boys. There's hardly a way around that. We birthed them.
Read more

I Continue the Telling of this past year (part 2}...

Image
For previous post, click here   The second night in hospital was worse than the first. The first night I was so shocked, stunned, almost disbelieving. It was a strange reality. The second night the anxiety storm kicked in and I was caught in the vortex. Not only was I up all night to keep him breathing, but fear overtook me. I worried about money - how we would cover all the medical bills we were racking up. I worried about Timo's recovery - his pain, his health, his rest, his soul. I worried about me. I run a depression-soul-fever in general; how could I possibly take on the round the clock care of a 17 year old who doesn't want help with anything?  As we encountered nurse after nurse and checked in with each doctor, they queried Timo about his life. Through a number of ups and downs, Timo had decided he would move on from high school and embark on working full-time and pursuing trade school, and possibly some community college classes in plumbing and welding. He had just foun
Read more