Faith and Prayers of Women in Community

Faith and Prayers of Women in Community

“I am grateful to God, whom I worship … as my ancestors did, when I remember you constantly in my prayers. … Recalling your tears … I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.” —2 Timothy 1:3-6.

Is it true that our faith can be transferred from one person to another, or from one generation to another? There are times when I feel that the faith of my mother and my grandmothers was holding me up in difficult times.

 However, we all have our own unique faith journeys. It is a connection to the God of our understanding, the aspect of God that we may feel we alone have experienced. I do believe that we often find the God, the Christ, within ourselves by first seeing the Christ in another. Then that love of Christ is reflected back, enabling us to see the Christ in ourselves. Some people do not call it Christ. They call it divine or unconditional love.

Our community influences us so much. If we want to experience this love, Recovery groups tell us to “stick with the winners.” People in discernment of gifts would tell us to be around those we most admire, because they carry a part of us we have not yet recognized. C. S. Lewis would tell us to “act as if.” We will know how to “act as if” only if we are around others who have what we are seeking. 

My experience is that we often find God in our community. Others around me show me the love of God. They share their faith. Of course, we always have the option of whether or not to receive it.

Today I share a community of women who are united in prayer and service, seeking a stronger faith through fellowship with one another. This is part of the Grace Chapter of Daughters of the King at St. Mark’s. I learn about love from each of them every day and am filled with gratitude for their continued presence. These are six women who recently took a vow of service and prayer as they joined this group. We will now learn more from them.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com

Waiting

Waiting

waiting for sunrise

“We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” —Joseph Campbell.

I remember a special day of waiting. We awake early to watch the sun rise one more time from behind the Gulf of Mexico. Amazing. There is one other seeker on the beach, sitting at the water’s edge, facing east, waiting as well. For a few minutes, we are connected, the “two or three that are gathered together.” 

All creation is still except for the loud roar of the ocean waves, which seem to say, “We are too busy and will not stop even if this star does not appear on stage today.” It doesn’t take long for the bright orange slowly to peek out from under the sea’s dark, heavy morning blanket. It is spectacular, with yellow, pink, and red soon splattered across our view. It is too much to take in. 

I look for other mentors for the day to accompany us in our waiting. I need not go far. The Monarch butterflies, with their sunlight-orange, black, and white wings, are arriving. They wake from their night's rest and warm in the new sunlight as they wait for the perfect air current to carry them on their long flight over the Gulf to a valley in Mexico. Are they the same ones who emerged from their chrysalises on the milkweed plants on our deck in Little Rock? Probably not, but they may be related. I hope to remember their patience, resilience, and persistence next spring.

Later, in the early morning, we sit and wait in church for the early Sunday service to begin. The eight o’clockers are mostly introverts, quietly finding places near the back of the church. A few brave ones go up to the first row of pews. We later learn they are reading the Lessons in the service. There is no music at eight. The altar party’s procession is silent. They are like the sun, trying not to make a spectacle. But their silence and sacredness are just as powerful, announcing a new day with one more message of love for new eyes to see and new ears to hear. 

Waiting is indeed an art, a sacred spiritual work. Like almost everything else, it takes practice to appreciate, but it always promises manna and a favorable wind just for this day, until we are ready to wait again.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Encouraging One Another in Difficult Times as We Live Through Another Hurricane Season

Encouraging One Another in Difficult Times as We Live Through Another Hurricane Season

Ivan

“We need one another. The more things get crazy and spin out of control, the more we recognize that our true allies are standing all around us, men and women as bemused by events as we are, as tired of living in the daily disaster as we are, longing for the firm ground of an honest dissent and a democratic process. Until that crazy gyroscope of power stops spinning, we need one another. We need common sense, strong values, deep listening, and honest talk. The counterweight to confusion is community, the balance to chaos is a coherent vision.” —Bishop Steven Charleston, Facebook page.

I remember a trip to the Gulf Coast after several hurricanes. We sent prayers for safety to our friends along the Carolina coasts, still recovering from Hurricane Florence. We also prayed for those in the Florida Panhandle, who were hammered that weekend by Hurricane Michael, especially those in Panama City, Mexico Beach, and Port St. Joe. We prayed for their churches on the Central Gulf Coast, including Trinity Apalachicola, St. James, Port St. Joe, St. Patrick’s Panama City, Holy Nativity Panama City, St. Andrew’s Panama City, Grace Panama City Beach, St. Thomas Laguna Beach, St. Matthew’s Chipley, St. Luke’s Marianna, and Nativity Dothan. 

I vividly remember the year we were on our way back to the Alabama Gulf Coast after Hurricane Irma. Our destination was not damaged by that storm, which devastated neighboring Florida. All the cars we followed had Florida license plates. Some were packed to the gills, And some were dangerously carrying extra cans of gasoline in their trunks and on their roofs. 

Trucks with generators passed by. Pickup trucks were filled with bottled water. We spent the night at a hotel on the way, where the parking lot was filled with cars bearing Florida license plates. The hotel was more like a hostel, housing large families with their large and small dogs.

There was no water under the causeway at Mobile Bay. It had all been blown out to sea, into the Gulf. Could this have been how the Israelites crossed the Red Sea in the Exodus? Hurricane-force winds pushed the waters aside, allowing the Israelites to cross, and then the storm surge came in as the tide changed, swallowing the Egyptians.

We prayed as each car passed, remembering our return to the Gulf Coast after the devastation of Hurricanes Ivan and Katrina. The memories are still painful—of not recognizing our road or our condo building, of not knowing how to enter it, and of the overpowering stench of rotting food in the refrigerator. 

Perhaps this is what we have to offer. A small connection to what people are experiencing in Texas, the Carolinas, Florida, and the Caribbean, while recognizing that their experience is so much worse. We send prayers and financial aid to help them get through. We are waiting to hear more details. Most of all, we stand together in relationship with them, hoping they can feel, in some way, the cosmic love being sent to them. 

We send hope, love, prayers, and financial support, but mostly the hope and promise that resurrection can emerge from these Good Friday experiences.

Joanna. joannaseibert.com

St. Peter’s By the Sea