Innerdialects

Chilly morning here, low cloud. Dew in my wild flower garden. Monsoon Mantha in our peninsula, is melting down. Mixed emotions after another birthday celebration at home. So we’re a year wiser, closer to Eternity.

Kimia, a lane mate from ten years ago called to say Hi, they’re not well and could we pray for a healing?

I’m quiet inside. Once long ago in a prayer group, it was my turn to pray for an aunty Myra with cancer, and she apparently had a breakthrough moment, the cot shook with a fire that healed her. The aunty TN who told me this, now held me responsible for her arthritis. What d’you know TN gets healed of even her foot spur. (My own fibro myalgia wasn’t getting healed one bit. TN and two others walk in; they disapproved of my hair cut and skirt, the colors we wore. These lovelies only wore white, which I confess looks great, but I couldn’t cope with such a stack of laundry. Nor with a growing kindergarten-er, and my own painting sprees!) So TN and crew were home to search me for flaw. The fact that I loved praying and all its side effects, was not being considered.

TN & me had got in a huddle after a YWAM meet for local music people, and I signed up to pray for anyone who asked, ofcourse I did. Have been doing that from age3 when someone lost their chappals, or whatever. There was this inner core in me that connected with God*. If He made us, He knew where we were hurt and fixed it in His way.

He* brought me a fluff-faced sandy colored Rabbit when I asked for a soft toy before I knew there were soft toys. We lived by the sea, miles from a civilized shop for fluff faced hug rabbits! All the pets we had were the sea,and a lighthouse full of prisms cut to refract rays into the night. That kind of existence morphs you into a person you don’t know how to explain to anyone. So I pray because its a chat with the One Who understands, not just a Fixer or Sender of Goodies.

I couldn’t tell aunty TN that God often said No, like – to my fibromyalgia being healed. I knew she was surveying my ‘illness’ with heavy duty lens!

Then the dear Myra who was healed, died. I was sure she went straight to the Best Place, but TN called up to scold. She wanted me to go take a goooood look at the funeral and see how sad this was! I wanted to say so many things but the white of her sacred clothing glared at me via the phone. I shut up; promised not to tout my love for this thing we call prayer. So what do I tell Kimia now?

I ache for her to heal, for the things that tie her down, to be released, but the One who made us all has a POV I’m learning to respect;

I’ve prayed healing for our son, from blindness. It is a good momma thing to do. To top this, He says He will, but don’t ask when. When NJ had his heart stopping moment, I’m outside 5am, in a nice chair and the blanket a kind friend gave me- God says, “I can take your NJ if I wish, or, keep him here if that is good. Just don’t credit his healing to your prayer, or the good Doc.”

God as my witness, that Convo was heavier than the successful procedure that brought NJ home and so well, to this day;

halleleleleujah but I’m learning the absolute prayer, “Your will be done, yes I’m asking, requesting healing for our very dear Kimia, but won’t you strengthen her, visit her, put Your Arm around her first? Oh Abba let healing flow, and let her know You? Is that ok now to ask? You know how a wound hurts?“

Last day of October. 2025 has been a rollercoaster for our planet. The greatest prayer I could say right now, is that we know You;

all this will pass, and then where are we headed? How do I know if my son’s healed from blindness but just turns into a terrorist kind of God- person?! You know what I mean: hard hearted, thinking he’s a cut above the rest?

Does affliction make us look into the Unseen and see what we might never, if we are not fragile?

My blog friend WP asks if I could invent a holiday, what’d it be?

Off the cuff, I’d love a garden free of human conditions for happiness. An Eden you say? Yes, a garden full of healed wounds, so we can breathe easy as we all grow up. Please don’t celebrate witches. Please stay safe, don’t eat smoke or things that grin in empty pumpkin. (To be Cont’d.,)

🍃

Praying for my friend, for healing. Even if God says No. His answers arrive in all kinds of ways. It’s us that need time to decode Miracles.

Praying, meanwhile is the sheer Joy of being with the Incredible One. The One Who weaves our insides, not just in Momma’s womb, but as we grow older, more fragile, more complex in our simplicities. Am enjoying this Post.

Take care.

P.S.

My dear friend San. S says she’s tried multiple times to comment and even via email, or subscribe, but WordPress won’t let her? That’s not the first I’ve heard. If that is you, please let me know. Your presence is valued, and it’d be nice to hear these Posts resonate.

WP, help?

Thank you,

RN🌷