Monday. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the end of a weekend. Maybe, I'd reasoned, if I could get back to work in my Christian office surrounded by my Christian co-workers, my body would heal and my mind would settle. I girl can hope, right? Alas, I knew in my soul it was not meant to be, and I messaged a friend from church asking for help. Without giving her the story ~ she had seen me on Saturday night and knew I was off my nut ~ I told her that I felt the need for some serious group prayer and would she be willing to help me rally some troops. Wasting the no time, the bugle sounded and the time was set for that evening.
When I walked into our break room at work, Bobbie was making coffee. She could see plain as day that I was not well, though she assumed that it was physical illness ~ I am known for allergy and sinus issues. When Bobbie asked what was wrong, I knew she was one of the few people to which I could honestly answer the question. I gave her the Cliff's Notes version of my weekend and admitted that I was still feeling pretty shredded and doubted my ability to complete my shift. Bobbie always takes such good care of me. She sent out the APB to our substitute therapists and got my afternoon covered. I'm convinced that woman is an angel in human clothing.
Leaving work for the day, my plan was to get home and rest for a while and then maybe putter around getting things done that had been neglected over the weekend. I had lunch and lay down in bed to read and mellow ~ and woke up 3 hours later when Josh got home, feeling no better rested. Sleeping until the end of time would not have been enough rest to shake the darkness out of my soul.
Josh and I headed out to meet a few people at the church for my requested group prayer. Of course, the one person I had hoped wouldn't be there was. And his was the only other car in the lot when I pulled in. Lovely. A few minutes later, however, a few other kind souls arrived and the telling of my story began. I ended up in a chair surrounded by loving spirits, the warmth of their hands resting on me as they prayed. One person brought up the trial of Job, how God had allowed Satan to destroy his life though Job was not deserving. I felt comfort knowing that these folks where with me in this battle, and yet I felt no release
And I have to confess that in my heart of hearts I believe that release was hindered in part because of the one person I hoped wouldn't be there. I believe he was there for the show it, for the sake of appearances, as opposed to truly getting dirty routing the evil at hand. It interested me that though he started off with a hand on my shoulder, as the intensity of the situation escalated he backed off while others drew in. By the wind-down, he was no where near me ~ a good several feet away. Hmm. Did the Spirit lead him to step away to pray more privately? Or did the situation make him so uncomfortable that he had to physically remove himself from it? Hmm...My guess would be the latter.
we will talk.
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