It's Wednesday morning. For the last six years I've climbed out of bed, thrown on the first clothes I could lay my hands on to go sit in a tiny room connected to the women's restroom at our church. There I sat in the same spot on the end of a couch with other women who sat in their unassigned same spots, and we talked to God. There was a fluctuating number--from four to fourteen--but week in and week out we sat for an hour in that cell and talked to God. It wasn't a Bible study, wasn't a coffee clutch, we simply prayed--for our children as the original purpose, but also for our spouses, for our church, for our lives. Sometimes we talked a little long at the beginning, but at some point or another, someone said, "Let's dive!" and we did, into the presence of God with a word from scripture or a song or a simple flinging off the glasses and bowing of the head. Sometimes we had visual aids--thank our artist for that, or words He gave us, or corporate prayer. But mostly we prayed, and as we did, we were His Body, His Church, His Bride. We walked through life together--weddings, divorces, babies, graduations, illnesses, job endings--and through it all, we have held each other when we were too weak to pray (the friend on the mat from Mark 2), and we've held each other when the joy overcame us.
I didn't get up this morning to go pray. Haven't recently, and I've been aware of the gap in my week. We've come to the end of that season, for a myriad of reasons both sublime and mundane. God was in that room, I know, and I think He's in the ending of the time as well. But it doesn't mean I don't miss it. I do. I will always look at that hour--a single hour a week to make so profound an impact!!--as the Body in action, the best action. Prayer as the first, best action of my life, our life together.
I'm richer for these women, they've helped me 'walk in a manner worthy of Christ.' And I just wanted to acknowledge them today, say a profound thank you.