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he was new at our knitting group this past Monday. I had not seen her before. She may have been in her early 80’s. She spoke very pleasantly to the ladies, introducing herself, learning about the other ladies, and telling about herself. She was widowed for about 7 years, had lived in an assisted home for awhile, but then her son-in-law asked for her to come live with his family. She affirmed she has the best son-in-law and still cannot believe how welcoming he has been and that it has been a good six weeks living with her daughter, son-in-law and children.
She spoke in such endearing terms, reminding me of Mrs. Doubtfire, but being REAL and much more beautiful and elegant! She sat by me and asked what I was knitting and told me it was lovely. She asked about me, and I told her of my family and the excitement of expecting our first grandchild. Our grandbaby was due that day, (now 4 days overdue) and told her how my daughter was very disappointed to have to go another week before they would induce her. She told me she‘d be praying for her, and us, and stood up and then looked back and said, “We can pray for her.” I questioned, awkwardly, “Right now? Here?” while all the other ladies are knitting and chatting. She caught me so off-guard – someone, just offer to pray, right then and there. We say we will pray for someone, but why not, then and there?
She sat down by me, took my hand, and prayed so sweetly, so endearing to our Savior, for my daughter’s protection and a healthy baby. I do not remember word for word what she said, but I knew I was on holy ground with her in an intimate conversation with Jesus. And it was precious. She said later she wanted to meet my daughter and she‘d continue praying for her. I believe she will and it was not just something for her to vainly say.
I could not wait to see my daughter a bit later to tell her, and that someone special will be praying her through this waiting time. She taught me something, to take those opportunities to really pray for someone – yes, right then and there.
. . . Finish