The Prayer

In my minds eye, I can see a small country house with a fire burning on a cold evening.  Slowly, the sun is chased away by the chill of evenings glare.  Outside sits a horse stall, vacant still since morning.  The ruts of the wagon road lay untouched, by tracks of man since.  The hay sits primed and ready, earned by a spring on the plow.  For the work is never done, to keep the status quo.  For nothing be gained by circumstance, but only by their brow.  Inside she tucks in children, tired from their playing.  Their world is big and full of adventure, after chores are done each day.  Evenings are filled with books and learning.  They rest their heads with prayer of safety, sent for their father.  Oh the worry that night doth bring, her cold and eerie gaze.  They drift off to sleep in humble heart, knowing of the faith.  As Mom sits with watchful gaze, waiting for the gallop of four trimmed hooves.  Her prayer will not cease, until the sound of the harness bell echo the prairie.  Oh, the life she lives of worry and of fear as they work this land together.  Each of value, each of purpose, love ever propelling them forward. 

She feels the darkness and its bitter cold and prays for him this night.  Oh the things that she would give, just to know that he is safe.  But for him it is a test of faith, as the horse leads the way.  For in this darkness he cannot see, he trusts in he that knows the way.  For the horse has been here before and the true path he will stay.  So they move together in the chill of night, with a prayer that the equipment holds true.  His breath blows white as the wind bites at his cheeks and hands.  Oh what he wouldn't give for a shortcut such as this.  As he ponders the fork ahead, he knows that left is shorter, but right is the way he came.  He fights the urge to change the course, of his captain up ahead.  While he could stomach risk, his mind is on his home.  His death would not make the glorified press, but to her it would be the world.  For their life is hand in hand, its partnership they seek.  True equality so to speak, not one without the other.  So he stays his course, he knows its right and true. He sits in cold silence staring, as the miles drift away.  His heart in prayer, he thinks to her fear and pleads her burden be lessened.

The window beams a reflection back, the same as it has for hours.  But none too soon the waiting ends, as he tarries on his way.  Past life and wife, to a barn stall primed and prepped.  Brightly shines a dimly lit house, that is now once again a home.  After the nights work is finished, they lay in gentle embrace, ever thankful, ever secure for their life united once more.  Tomorrow is new day full of trial and fear, but today be gloried still, for the blessing of prayer since answered.

A gentle kiss starts anew, on the lands of the rolling pine.  With a whip of his reigns he goes rolling by, to a hand yet dealt in a gamblers game.  He looks back with a grin to a window built for him.  Their eyes meet in one last glancing as his smile turns to longing.  And in their whisper one might hear, the sound of a silent prayer.  

Oh blessed stead, 

Run well and quick

Stick true thy gait. 

Stay the course I plead

Through creek and thick

Thy path be straight.

Let this not be the night

When the darkness echoes

Longing in the window

When skies lose the light

The crisp breaches clothes

Leave me/her not a widow

I look into a society and I believe the biggest challenge facing us all is the longing for those we love.  The type of longing that is soul searching and deep, the type that drives decisions and creates purpose.  How often are we so actively engaged in activities that create only distance?  How often are we found restless at the feeling of being unevenly yoked in our journey?  How often do we feel too comfortable in judging our spouses effort without the use of gratitude?  

The question of do we long for them is simple enough, if we don't complicate it.  I worry that the number one cause of divorce is not money or personality conflicts, but rather a loss of concern.  A loss of concern for the sanctity of the life that lives within that frail mortal body that will one day perish.  Sometimes, I envy the pioneers, the cowboys and the homesteaders.  They understood the fragility of life and the delicate balance needed to endure the hardships.  Their love was pure as their life, they did not expect to gain without work.  Reaping what they sow was their fundamental nature, it was their reward for staying the true course.

I hope that the lessons of the past are never lost on me, or you.  I pray that my prayers may be for the benefit and safety of my spouse more often than they are for my own needs and wants.  May I find myself remembering the great blessing that exist in a world of ease as I never allow my spade to become dull and without use.  

So truly blessed is he that has longing in his heart for his companion, his help mate, his equal.  It is the righteous concern that will provide him the greatest joy throughout all time.  So if I may bestow but any lesson it would be, forget yourself and truly be free.