After the park I ended up driving around the city. A weird pilgrimage of sorts. To a number of places I've gone over the years to pray. Along routes that were some of the first places where I began to hear the voice of the Father, where it became more than a one-sided conversation. Places I drove and screamed at God while I was depressed. Places I drove and prayed in wonderment those first few months after I was healed. Places where I drove with desperately broken people in my passenger seat, talking and praying. Places and routes full of memories and nostalgia. And as I drove, I let the memories float back, and I prayed for the future. It was such a special time, a great way to start a new year!
There is joy in T's smile again these last few days that has been missing for quite a while. I'm still praying that his wrist will be healed - whether supernaturally or with another surgery. I'd love it if you would pray with me for that. That he'll fully get his music back one day. But it made me happy to see the joy in his eyes again.
I asked him to pray for me before we separated for the evening. My church is commissioning me for my trip to Malta on Sunday, but T. will be out of town. I really wanted to hear him pray for me, as the sibling and family member who is most able to hear and accept my heart, and my differences from the family and religious structure I grew up in. He agreed and prayed blessing and other beautiful things over my life, my trip, my relationships. Such a special moment, sitting there in the car, parked in front of my parent's house in the dark, and hearing my baby brother talk to Jesus about me.
This was a good way to start a new year.
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