The Coronavirus has come like a vengeful tsunami, one none of us were prepared for, and it has changed the way we live our lives. The storm has changed our daily activities and our to-do list, where we can go and whom we can see. It is beyond me to understand how some sub-cellular microorganism can wreak havoc around the world in a matter of weeks. The virus isn’t even considered a cell, and it only comes alive when it has invaded and takes up residence in a living cell as its host. (That thought is for a whole other blogpost, and I really need to ponder that one.)
Since my husband and I are in the age-category that is most at risk, we are taking every precaution to stay well. We are following our leaders’ mandates and our doctor’s orders, and we’re staying close to home, getting out only when necessary. And how grateful we are for Springtime and the hours we can spend walking, breathing fresh air and watching these hills turn green. But I feel somewhat helpless? What can we do to make a difference? There is something we all can do that WILL make a difference.
Many years ago, a wise woman of prayer taught me about prayer-alerts, and I have tried to practice that discipline, sometimes successfully and other times miserably. Prayer alerts are things like this: hearing a siren and stopping to pray for the one in need; glancing at a photo of family members and praying for that one; praying for the person who just spoke with you on the telephone (yes, even telemarketers). Just sentence prayers …
Now, I’m about to take a bit of a right turn here, but stay with me. We’ve all heard about the importance of washing our hands these days. And by the way, handwashing didn’t just get important with the Coronavirus. And we’ve been told to wash our hands for about the length of time it takes to sing “Happy Birthday.” (I’ve had some strange looks humming that in public restrooms.) But the last few days, I’ve been standing at the sink and singing the Doxology while doing my ritual handwashing. My doctor told me to sing it twice. The Doxology is a prayer of praise, but it got me to thinking. Now I’m returning to my original thought.
What if I used those many 20 second-handwashing-moments during the day to pray? Just sentence prayers, but I mean really praying for individuals who are ill with this virus, for their family members giving care or the ones who may be separated from their families, for the first-responders and medical professionals on the front-line, for national leaders making decisions, for all whose lives have been affected by this virus. And since part of praying is always expressing thanksgiving, thank God for His protection, His provisions, and praise Him that He can take this whole situation and use it for good–maybe even a Spiritual Awakening. Let’s ask Him to do that. What if we flooded heaven with our hand-washing prayers? Would you join me?