I know we’ve been told a time of two to pray for our men. Those, like me, who don’t yet have our own have too, likely been wisely encouraged to do the same…pray for him wherever he is as our very own Heaven-selected Boaz makes his way to each of our lives. (Check out the book of Ruth in the Bible to read all about good, old Boaz.) Both suggestions of prayer are most appropriate, indeed powerful and right in line with what a good wife or good woman would and should do. But I was soon to find that a key component was being left out of the prayer circle.
One day while walking through my house I found myself whispering this simple prayer, “Lord, bless my husband wherever he is with whatever he is going through.” And then, out of nowhere I mumbled words I had no intentions of uttering, “And get me ready for him as you’re making him ready for me”. Huh? What? Where did that come from? Aren’t I ready? (I really didn’t want an answer to that.) Anywho, it was as if God said, “Yeah, I hear ya, praying for him, and don’t stop, but pray for yourself too, boo.” (That’s just how we talk. We’re cool like that.)
So I am. I’m praying about spiritual, financial and personal things I won’t post at this particular juncture regarding myself. However, having been divorced for over five years and likely in need of a fine-tuning regarding the ways of a good, Godly man I’m also praying about some seemingly shallow things like learning to share again, not in the sense of my heart, my secrets or my deepest thoughts. I’m down with that, and welcome it like the return of a long-lost love. I’m praying that, like a toddler, I learn to share my stuff like the remote on my reality TV nights, the thermostat level, my holidays and my Honey Crisp Apples. I’m praying that I gain more balance with my schedule, never, ever, ever going back to the place of neglecting precious time with God, family or friends, but learning to carefully master my calendar after years of footloose and fancy free living. I’m praying that my little, quirky idocyncrasies don’t do damage (I can be real “particular”). I’m praying I become ready to have to cook if he prefers home-cooked meals or maybe even force myself to become accustomed to someone who prefers to shower me with prepared meals all the time (A girl can wish. Can’t she?). I’m praying that I’m still grateful to God if he’s not a morning person, doesn’t like SEC football, doesn’t like old school gospel on Pandora to start the day, or doesn’t enjoy Conecuh Sausage, Steve Harvey Bacon or Church of the Highlands. (I gasp at the mere thought.) I want to be ready. I want to be the best me that I’ve ever been when he comes and I know that won’t happen then if it doesn’t start happening now.
There’s so much more I could write about what I’m praying about, but I shan’t. I shall pray. I would just like to say that I’m grateful for that gentle Voice which I know wants me to talk to Him more about all things no matter how big or bigger. I’ve been with me everyday of my life, I know I’m a “well-loved” (some have called it spoiled) piece of God’s handiwork. Notice I didn’t say “piece of work”…LOL! After all the H-E-Double Hockey Stick I’ve been through and put myself through, God forbid anything in me messes up what’s for me. That, my dears, shall not happen. So to Angela I repeat, “pray for yourself, boo.”