she didn't know i was having a bad day when she called. i confessed to it being long, slow, boring, but those are easy words when the truth is you just didn't like self or child and air was tensely breathed. she shared life-giving words, love-words, and the encouragement was a balm.
she spoke of prayer, of women gathered 'round to lift up their children as airy incense like abraham offered isaac on sacrifice-altar. we mothers pray for our children, sometimes in loving caress and goodnight lullabies, but also in tight-gripped fear of tomorrows and failures and enemies. chins tucked in at night, prayers waft in moonlight.
the speaker at her church meeting talked of geese and how women praying with and for each other are in flock, too, and how the front goose flaps wings harder to make a current for the ride of those behind easier, or how the geese near end honk encouragement to those up front. these geese need to fly in supporting formation (that famous V) with each other--to fly solo is to fly less far.
we talk of prayer-as-legacy ; i want my loves to be wrapped in the silver aroma of prayer, a heritage of intercession the one thing they know truer than any other way of saying, "i love you."
i kiss those boys to bed, and we pray together in thanks. we three lie together in the dark, i hear baby breaths and quiet snores, and i whisper burning incense, i love you, Father.