I arise today
through strength in the sky:
light of sun
dazzle of fire
speed of lightning
I arise today
With God’s strength to pilot me:
God’s might to uphold me
God’s wisdom to guide me
God’s eye to look ahead for me
God’s ear to hear me
God’s word to speak for me
God’s hand to defend me
God’s way to lie before me
God’s shield to protect me
God’s host to safeguard me.
—”The Deer’s Cry,” from The Confession of St. Patrick
Translated by John Skinner
A Mother’s Day Prayer
When we are little, Momma prays for us.
When they are old, we pray for them.
I have been holding my momma’s hand for as long as I can remember.
As a little girl, sitting next to her in Catholic mass, I held her hand. Somehow, in my empathic, intuitive little-girl-soul, I just knew she was troubled and that church was her happy place—her sanctuary from strain. It became mine, as well.
Always has been, always will be.
A Hospital Homily
Better than medical intervention? Spiritual intervention. This visit from Father Kevin enlivened my mother and illuminated the hospital room. As he anointed her and prayed for her, she closed her eyes. I held one hand and laid my other hand on her back. I sincerely felt the deep rattle in her chest lighten and her soul sink into a peaceful place. That is the power of praying for our mommas.
No Greater Gift
This Mother’s Day I offer my momma the greatest gift I can: prayers for a miracle.
She has an issue of blood, much like the woman we meet in Luke 8:43-48 (AMP):
When Doctors Have No Answers
Sometimes doctors don’t have all the answers, especially when serving someone who is 90 years old. The prototypical treatment just isn’t safe for an aging body.
This leaves everyone, especially my independent, mentally strong momma, frustrated and filled with angst. I stood at the foot of her bed, listening to surgeons and medical teams, give hard news. I see my aging momma trapped in an aging body—yet full of mental vigor and oomph to get up and go. We’ve been here many times before and this time, we are both very, very tired—wondering, are we up to the fight these type of battles demand?
“It must feel so good to stand up, put your coat on, and walk out of here,” she said to me yesterday.
“Yes mam, it does. I don’t take it for granted. I would give anything for you to do the same,” I said.
At that moment, I realized how very cognizant she really is about what is happening. This “somatic” comment hinted at her fear of not being able to perhaps leave this hospital and return to her life.
Would you pray for my Momma?
So, this Mother’s Day, I have one prayer: Jesus, heal my momma. Say to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Amen.”
Maybe your Momma needs special prayers today, too. Leave her name in our comments and we will storm the gates of heaven on behalf of these mighty women who gave us life.