Grandmothers Prayer for March 3rd

Father, behold, I have refined thee, but not with silver; I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction. Isaiah 48:10.

Father, I do not flinch from the word furnace anymore. I have been in a few. Early grief. A long illness in the family. Hard years with one child whose name I will not speak, because You already know. Those were furnaces. They did real work in me. I am not making them sound better than they were. I would not choose them. But I would not give back the woman they made either. She is more tender with other people's pain because she remembers her own.

You chose me, and some of that choosing happened in the heat. That is a strange comfort. But it is still a comfort. Let me speak this morning to the people whose own furnaces are still burning. Let me come with the steadiness of someone who has cooled down enough to be useful. Not from a height. Not with advice. Just the quiet company of an older sister whose fires have done their work.

Amen.