You Could Be My

I seem to be telling the adventure in backwards order, so: an acorn-shaped gazebo in Silver Spring, Maryland. I'd read about it and asked Andrea if we could check it out. Given that nap time had come and gone by the time we pulled up (the girls scrapping and acting a fool in the seat behind us), Andrea turned on her hazards, and I hopped out of her Exhibition, alone.

The above isn't the best photo, I realize, but the sun was bright, and the gazebo sits just under a large tree. As I walked quickly around the gazebo, I saw just past and below it what looked like a fireplace or some such, and--given the plaque beside--I  went to investigate.

The plaque says (among other things) that this is the Silver Spring from which the community derives its name: that Francis Preston Blair and his daughter Elizabeth discovered it from horseback in 1840, Mr. Blair naming it Silver Spring based upon the appearance of "rays of sun on mica sand particles in the water."

For a spring, it looked dry as a bone to me, but I've been singing bits and pieces of the Fleetwood Mac song in my head, ever since. I looked up its history, last night, and learned: Stevie Nicks wrote the song after driving under a freeway sign that said Silver Spring, Maryland. "'You could be my silver springs...' that's just a whole symbolic thing of what you could have been to me," she explained, once.

I think about my own man: so overwhelmed and tired, lately. The night the little kids and I returned from Maryland, he participated in another mock trial for extra cash, and he's making more repairs on the bitty house, this weekend. We have catching up to do, yet, with bills, Christmas presents to buy. And I know he's worried about his mom: some scary things with her health, lately.

I don't always know what to do or say; in fact, today, he told me to stop talking. But I think about that bone-dry-looking spring and--upon considering what its name symbolizes to Stevie Nicks--decide not to dwell on what Jim could be (or is) to me, right now, but instead, on what I can be to him. I undress and tuck myself in against the prominent bones rising from his chest. I run my hands over his warm body but say not a word.

I would be your only dream...

Your shinin' autumn...ocean crashin'...

Prayer Meeting of the Blogosphere (16)

Welcome to the sixteenth, old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere. This week, I have a story to tell you.

My cousin-sister Andrea has a friend of nigh about thirty years named Strawberry. He lives in New Jersey but passes through Baltimore every so often, and when he does, she likes to drive up from Petersburg to visit him. She mentioned recently that she was about to make the trip to Baltimore and asked if the little kids and I would like to ride along and keep her company, and yes: I'm always up for an adventure, especially a cheapy one. I have plenty to tell you about the trip, but the part I want to tell you, now, has to do with the Prayer Stop in Silver Spring, Maryland. Here's a photo of it:

The Prayer Stop had been on my list of things to see for some time. As it turns out, Pastor Dennis--the very man who built the Prayer Stop--was there when we stopped. He isn't always, he explained, but he'd been painting and cleaning. I went inside, and he closed the door behind me and proceeded to share his testimony and the story of the Prayer Stop. 

He'd lost himself to alcoholism, his said, and then he lost his wife and job and freedom. In 1999, sitting in jail, he remembered the Lord's Prayer and prayed it from his heart, and shortly thereafter he got out of jail and accepted Christ. About two years later, the Lord gave him a vision for the Prayer Stop. Pastor Dennis had a hard time finding somewhere to build the Prayer Stop, but at last a Buddhist said he wouldn't mind having it in his front yard.

In the past decade or so, thousands of people have received salvation and healing while or after visiting the Prayer Stop. "There's no condemnation here," Pastor Dennis explained, "because I pretty much did it all before the Lord delivered me." I cried, listening to him, and then I filled out a card with my prayer requests. Pastor Dennis prayed with me, read scripture to me, and hugged me goodbye. The experience has inspired my prayer for this week's meeting:

Heavenly Father, thank You for being a big God capable of working out of the smallest places. Help me remember Pastor Dennis and the ministry of the Prayer Stop. Help me not to get too big for my britches but, instead, to be concerned only with Your will for my life. Make of me--if nothing else--a willing vessel: a living Prayer Stop. I pray the same for my brothers and sisters reading here, and I ask Your continued blessings and protection over Pastor Dennis and all those who do Your great work in humble ways. Help us not to despise small beginnings, Lord. In Jesus's name I pray and ask these favors, amen.

Now it's your turn! Would you like to participate in an old-fashioned prayer meeting of the blogosphere? Here are some ideas:

• You can pray about my prayer request.
• You can share a prayer request by means of a comment.
• You can share a prayer request on your personal blog and direct me to your post by means of a comment.
• You can pray about a participant's prayer request.
• You can write a prayer about my, your, or someone else's prayer request (in comments hither or yon, on your blog, etc.). If your prayer is somewhere other than this place, please direct me as you can and  will.
• You can join in praying my or someone else's prayer.
• You can share an update regarding a prayer request you've made here, in the past. 

May God bless and keep you until we meet again.