Why We Can Trust God with our Prayers

She was born under breath prayers on a Friday and under blankets on a Wednesday the breaths all left her and she turned blue, the color of heaven.


Picnik collage


Her mama held her high and cried to the heights and YHWH whispered breathe….

In a pediatric critical care unit on a Thursday, the doctors treat our bundle of pink for meningitis, waiting on cultures for Group B strep. Her mama leans over her, stroking her cheek, whispering prayers.

And we take hands in a circle here and pray, pray to YHWH — the One whose very name sounds like our breathing, the One with the name YHWH that means

Y = yod — Hand
H = heh — window of breath, Behold
W = vav — Nail
H = heh — window of breath, Behold

We pray to YHWH whose name embodies suffering, Who takes our hand with His nail scarred one and we behold the Wounded Healer, the One in Whom is our window of breath in a world suffocating with pain and ache.

We come up for Breath… We Behold… and The Nailed Hand holds our prayers.


Related: Jennifer Lee’s “The Y Scar”