The Art of Prayer

Of all the things people pray for, I am inclined to believe that wealth stands tall atop the list.  I mean, I would like to be financially secured just as much as the next man, but wealth is not exclusive to monetary riches.

Wealth simply means to have a great amount; a profusion.  This being the case, prayer is the wealth for someone feeling overwhelmed by the circumstances that goes beyond their control:

“Dear God, help me!”

“Lord, please don’t let the state kill me!”

Prayer is ongoing no matter what.  We pray at funerals, baptisms, and births. Some may pray for their favorite sports team’s next victory, while the rocket’s red glare and bombs bursting in air are much more than a patriotic song.

A prayer comes in the form of a mother’s whisper every time her son leaves the house.  Prayer is a Mann’s first thought when his initial scenery of the day is the concrete and steel of a death row prison cell.

The power in the prayer within that cell travels from Central Prison to the sandy shores of Cali; protecting the grandseeds he has yet to meet.

Prayer can be the unspoken words, but loud thoughts when stepping through the threshold of a penitentiary chow hall.

Prayer takes its place at the forefront of all activities involving another person facing death, for taking a life.

Prayer is the remedy for tear-stained faces and the tortuous visual of loved ones leaving a visitation booth.

The psychological calamity an execution night imposes on the wearer of the red jumpsuit is an immediate cause for prayer.  This is the spiritual art of communication manifested by faith in THE ONE that grants this form of wealth to which we are eternally indebted.

My prayers do not require a definitive style of posturing; a look of stoicism; or glamourized speech.  One word holds as much weight as a million tongues speaking a thousand; Thanks.

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Almighty Creator,

I am a man unworthy of the precious life you have breathed into me.  The many days and nights when I have felt worthless, you have shown me my true worth.  When I felt like dying, you awaken me to yet another sunrise.

With a sound mind I leave behind the constant of slamming cell doors, malfunctioning fire alarms and the ongoing stench of prison life, as I bring forth my latest bout with spiritual warfare.  My heart is heavy with the thought of one day having to live after my parents have left this physical realm behind.

During our last visit, the Plexiglas and steel bars could not disguise their physical exhaustion of their combined 156 years enduring life’s afflictions.  From the womb to the present date, Moms has always been my outlet.  How am I to fathom living when she is gone?

Most recently, a dear friend revealed that her mother is suffering from an inoperable brain tumor.  My friend is strong in appearance, but when I look into her eyes, I see a little girl not ready to live without her Mommy.  Hear my prayers for this family.

Then there is the cardiogenic shock that overwhelmed the heart of the beautiful woman who birthed and nurtured my soul mate.  You have already awakened her from a coma.  We are all so greatly in debt to your mercy, but we need strength.  Mrs. Addy and Mama Rose need their children and loved ones to maintain a solid support system for whatever they are destined to face.

No matter how daunting this reality is to me, I recognize there is a reason I am so close to these health related setbacks involving the mother of two women I have grown to love.  Give me strength, Almighty Creator.  Whatever is, has already been, and what will be, has been before.  I am what you make me to be.

Amen

Your Bondservant,

Leroy

Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann