A Wing and a Prayer
I’m using an idiom for a title that first came into use during World War II. It sounds really cool and it is really cool, kind of like a “Hail Mary” ‘throw-it-to-the-wind and lets see where it comes down,’ sort of thing. Except I’m not exactly using it like that.
Last night I was paging through some of my many written pieces to see what I might already have that wanted me to post it. When I opened one older piece with this very title, the dog came over and sat on my foot. “That one,” he said. But I knew he didn’t mean it after I read it, because, I didn’t remember it at all. The fact is, the times, our circumstances, our wishes and we ourselves change, and there was no possibility I would post that piece or any part of it, as-written.
At that point, though, the dog may as well have bitten me and parked on my head. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I was to use the title, because somebody needed me to. Somebody out there, and I would never get to know who, was in trouble. Well, so what?
Well, my grandfather. My memory isn’t what it used to be, but the things that have impressed me the most are still very vivid. Some of those are the few times I sat at his farmer’s table and had a meal. One thing was consistently the same, other than where I was expected to sit; he always said grace with an elbow on the table and a hand over his eyes. When finished, he would continue to pray silently as my grandmother would quietly begin to pass food. I could see his lips moving. This fit his persona perfectly. I know he was asking protection and guidance for his son, his wife and family, which of course included me. I have always felt there has been some sort of grace for me because of my grandfather.
For as long as his body could handle it, he labored tirelessly. He built a farm, an orchard and a business from absolutely nothing. He successfully raised children at the same time, in the grip of the Great Depression. Even when he’d bitten off more than it appeared he could chew, somehow he worked his way through it. I know now, he had help.
But I haven’t always taken it to heart. A strong-willed, troublesome kid, it took me a really long time to grow up, and even longer to begin to grow out of it. I’m sure I’m not done growing out of it, even now. While I may not be a bad guy, I’m not a good one either. There are some who hate me and I’ve made no effort to fix it. There are some who even fear me, and I’ve not explained that they’ve no reason to. So I’ve still got a way to go. When you spend your early years as a spiritual agnostic, the road gets lengthened, and I know I’ve made it much longer, all by myself. Amazed, though, as I am at some of the things I’ve done that I’d not think of doing today, grace is even more amazing.
So now that I’ve expressed the reasons why I’ve had to handle a certain humility that comes from at least partial reformation, maybe you can accept that I’ve been made aware, there’s someone who needs to know about this. I don’t know anything about this person. I don’t know what the problem is. I don’t know what it might take to resolve it. However, I have seen things happen in my own life that proved beyond the shadow of any doubt, prayers are answered. Sometimes they are not, but when the need is present and it’s God’s will to do it, asking is all it takes. So that’s what I intend to do. I won’t be doing it publicly when I do, and I sure won’t be on any mountain top. Spiritually I must be downhill from you, troubled person, and to be sure, I will be. From there I will lift you up. If you are not that person and are so inclined, please assist with a prayer of your own. I’m not as strong as I used to be and I’ll need all the help I can get. Trust me.
The wing represents a means of getting it there. The prayer is for you. The power to execute, is not mine.
It has occurred to me that there are quite likely, very many such someones. I promise you, God can count that high.
From where I am Wes, and I suspect where anybody is, is at variance with most, only my kids know I’m a believer. If they believe that. I was on the other side of it at least partly as a student. I found the aggressive approach of the campus “preacher” who picked a corner and shouted for hours, obnoxious. The church I joined as a kid removed my membership for non-pledging and published the names of the removed, in the church bulletin. That indicated it was about money. It took years to learn otherwise, and it wasn’t until I had real trouble that I saw desperate prayer answered. That has changed, everything. Only divine intervention could have pulled me back to safety.
I know there are needs, every day and everywhere. I often wish I could solve those needs. Prayer is, really, the best I have to offer.
God provides. Praise God. Amen.