![]() ![]() Losing a loved one is one of the most difficult experiences in life. ![]() As an Amazon Associate, we earn from qualifying purchases. We also may earn commission from purchases made through affiliate links. We follow a strict editorial process to provide you with the best content possible. But I also will challenge myself to make real, small-but-concrete acts of love when I do, and to trust in the fullness of God’s perfect plan.Cake values integrity and transparency. I will continue, in my way, to offer thoughts and prayers. Their tender thoughts and prayers carry my needs immediately to the God who loves us so greatly.īeing on the receiving end of “thoughts and prayers” has convinced me of their good. Especially precious to me are the handmade cards, letters and works of art I’ve received from schoolchildren. Friends have invoked the intercession of powerful saints, sending me relics, holy cards and blessed oils. I have received spiritual bouquets full of rosaries and novenas. One very dear friend regularly sends me cards from the chapel where she remembers me at her weekly hour of Eucharistic adoration. Loved ones have included me in the intercessory prayers at their churches and put me on scores of prayer lists. Priest friends have offered their Masses on my behalf. I will likely never have a chance to thank everyone who has prayed for me, but their thoughts, their prayers have blessed me when I was too infirm to pray for myself. I was reminded that I do not face this challenge alone. Too weak to reply, I had the very real sense of a flock of loved ones not only thinking of me but also being emotionally and spiritually present to me. Each of us is a vital piece of the great mosaic of humanity as a whole.” As hours ran into days and weeks during my recovery, I reread many thoughtful lines sent my way during my surgery. John Paul II wrote, “None of us is alone in this world. In his 1999 Message to the Young People of Israel and Palestine, St. Meaning to let someone rest undisturbed, we may forget that our presence to others, even in writing, is an irreplaceable balm. “Thoughts and prayers” have buoyed me in moments of pain and fear, wrapping me in a blanket of love when I truly needed to be surrounded by support and to feel God’s presence.Įxperiencing illness can be an exercise in extreme isolation. My phone blew up with thoughtful and prayerful calls and texts. My mailbox overflowed with cards and letters carrying thoughts and prayers into our home. ![]() “Thoughts and prayers” came to me through social media and filled my email inbox. Like what you're reading? Sign up to receive our daily email! When I began to share my news publicly, hundreds of digital “thoughts and prayers” came my way, and they made all the difference in the world. Lately, I’m challenging myself to do something more than clicking the prayer emoji when I’m met with the suffering of others.īut I haven’t given up on “thoughts and prayers.” Being on the receiving end of hundreds of such offerings following my recent cancer diagnosis has convinced me that the message matters. Helpless to assist otherwise, I offer “thoughts and prayers,” hoping to convey my nearness, even when I am far away.īut in my haste to be compassionate, I’m too often guilty of typing these words thoughtlessly and moving along without stopping to truly pray. I use it nearly every day on social media feeds, where the needs of others seem to rise to the top of my algorithm, like a strangely theological cream. The phrase is such a part of my lexicon that it’s become predictive text in my smartphone. I’m guilty of being quick to send “thoughts and prayers” in my timelines. ![]()
1 Comment
|
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |