This Sunday dawned after the night of a thousand knives. Sunday began with tremulous hope and fear. But soon, even that hope was gone. Snatched away by betrayal after betrayal.
In less than 2 years, the course of events of this past week has returned my country to the pits of muck and mess, where it had been for decades. In just a week, I woke up today to see our futures and those of our children’s, stolen once more from us.
The pain was more than I could bear, and tears welled up throughout the day.
Even the birds knew, because they took their song to far away boughs, as the winds mourned with us, caressing us in sombreness.
My husband tried to shore up my hope, and not wanting to spurn his love, for some time, I tried to be strong. Blessed be God, I prayed, over and over. Not wanting to let evil defeat us, we worked on lunch together. My husband attended to some yard work. I tried to rest my heart amongst the new flowers in our garden.
But soon, it became too hard. Soon, I could not summon even a simple prayer.
That was when I recalled the words of my spiritual father.
If you cannot pray, ask your guardian angel to pray for you. ~ St. Padre Pio
I ran to it in great relief. My country needed prayers. Yes, hopes were dashed and crushed for now, but if we all gave up on prayer, we wouldn’t need to go far to find hell. Yet, the vicious turn of events had depleted the very sustenance we needed in order to go on fighting for our futures, for fairness and justice. Good people would tell us to keep hoping, but there are times when we just cannot find the will to hope within us. Without hope, prayer is impossible.
Yet, if I could not pray as I should, as my beloved Padre Pio had reminded me, my angel could, on my behalf.
Angel, pray for me.
The relief was instant.
writingonmyheart 
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