There are these women in life you meet every so often who you know must have this dynamic relationship with God. You must know one. Their husbands are satisfied and happy throughout many years of marriage, their children all turned out Godly, respectable, and usually thank their mothers for that, while their church respects them highly. They are the type that are personal friends with the pastor, not involved in social quibbles or gossip, they’re non-judgmental and not prone to talking to people about others’ faults. They are usually mentors to scores of younger women (and men), and are unselfish people concerned with serving others more than being served, about righting the world rather than being right. You know, everyone knows, that they must have some amazing prayer life in order to maintain all of this. They’re the type you go to for advice.

Nathan called these women the “crazy prayer ladies”. It was not a referral to their actual craziness, though. More a referral to the fact that it was crazy for him to think about being one. Yes, I’m glad he wasn’t a crazy prayer lady. That would’ve made our marriage very awkward.

I’m particularly blessed because my mom definitely fits the bill of a crazy prayer lady. In fact, she just had one of my best friends from high school over for a mentoring session a couple of days ago. I’ve watched her action and reaction to things over the years, so it’s easy for me to spot the other crazy prayer ladies when I meet them.

My mom is usually my personal crazy prayer lady, but a couple of weeks ago there were so many things going on that I was unsure about what God was trying to tell me, and I needed an extra crazy prayer lady. So, I went to a bonafied crazy prayer lady that goes to my church. Actually, if you remember when I was trying to decide what to do about going to Seattle or not, she randomly gave a friend of mine the verse Habakkuk 3:19 in the Amplified Bible Version, which, let me tell you, is something that I’ve had to go back to many times over the last month. I called her up and said, “Hi, I’m going through a lot. Can you pray for me?” To which she simply answered, “Sure, honey. When do you want to come over?”

I went to her house. She even has a quiet prayer room at the back of her house where people go when she prays for them. I have a personal problem with counselors, not because of an actual problem per se, but because I just can’t make myself trust the advice of a person I don’t know. I don’t know what their personal life looks like, I don’t know where their spirituality stands or emotional issues they may have, all that kind of stuff. I’ve gone twice to the crazy prayer lady, though. It’s better than counseling. Having a wise someone listen intently while you lay your burdens on them. They may give you advice sometime, always having to do with God and His greater purpose and hardly anything to do with the actual trouble at hand. Thus, you suddenly put things into perspective. Then they pray, and God may lead the prayers where He wishes. He might gently point out your faults, if you are willing to listen to them. He might give direction in some murky places in life. He might encourage you in things you are actually doing right.

I feel much better after going to the crazy prayer lady. I feel like God pointed out some things in my life that I need to work on, and He gave me closure in leaving my house, which is something that is still really overwhelming, but will be healthy for me.

Mostly, I want to be a crazy prayer lady someday. It takes years of practice, some or most of those need to have lots of trials to grow upon, so I’m hoping that I’m heading in the right direction for right now.

Also, if you don’t have a crazy prayer lady of your own, then you need to go find one. They’re indispensable. If you’re a man, you probably need to find a wise old man. “Crazy prayer man” doesn’t hold the same effect. If in doubt of where to find one, find one that resembles Paul Newman. He’s the best wise old man I know, though he pretends to be a grouchy one in all his movies. I don’t think Paul is really that grouchy, though. I digress because I love Paul Newman. Back to crazy prayer ladies.

Thank you, mom, for being a crazy prayer lady in my life. And, thank you, other crazy prayer lady at my church, for taking the time to listen to a confused, overwhelmed woman try to seek God’s will when it isn’t so obvious.

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