The Praying Woman

I grew up on the power of prayer. My mother insisted on praying for us for every occasion and instilled in us the importance of praying before leaving the house. It got to the point that I wouldn't even drive my car without praying, lest I get in a car accident. When I was younger, prayer was an important part of life and the one thing that I followed faithfully. It relaxed me, calmed me, and gave me a sense of power and hope. It was an innocent reflection time and the most honest conversation I had ever had with anyone. It was the only time I could truly be me with no fear for judgement.

When I began attending my Christian college, I began to see different forms of prayer and worship that I was not used to. Prayer seemed to take on a more art form; where louder and more dramatic was the norm. I saw people gyrate and shake seemingly with the Holy Spirit. Suddenly my simple method seemed inadequate and not Christian enough.

My prayers took on a new quest where rather on focusing on my conversation, I was caught up in pursuing something else. I was no longer content to just talk, I wanted to have an experience like others. I felt as if I was missing out on a certain emotion and began to be frustrated, rather than calmed by prayer.

Today I watched my fiance go to work and I prayed for him. It felt simple, pure, and honest. It felt like home; without the pretentious outward layer.