Sandy Wells: My Inner Voice
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Always My Little Bro

5/18/2015

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Time of prayer; what does it mean to you? Is it Holy and formal as Jesus taught, “Our Father who are in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name?”  Is it relaxed and friendly, as if talking to a best friend?  It is a time of praise and thanksgiving, when we lift our hands to the Heavens and thank God for His many blessings? Is it a time of questioning, doubt or fear, when we seek His wisdom, His answers, and His will?

Or, can our time of prayer be a time of desperation, sorrow, and yes, anger? Do we shake our fists, scream in anger, sob through grief, question God’s will and timing; all the while thanking Him for allowing us to vent our deepest, darkest feelings, and loving us still?

Our time of prayer is not always sweet. There are times; such as I am enduring, when our prayers are raw, passionate, angry, primal and desperate. Times when we may feel as if our hearts have been crushed, and putting one foot in front of the other requires strength we don’t posses. Times when memories bring tears, and being alone cause us to feel as if we’re suffocating. This time of prayer is reserved for times of loss, grief and sorrow: Such as, the death of a brother.

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My world, and the world of my sister and our entire family imploded a few days ago. Our brother, the gentle giant, wounded eagle, humble maker of peace, teller of tales, man of faith; my personal hero and six foot something, fifty seven year old—Little Bro, died. He was my little Bro and I was his Sis; our birthdays were meant for eating cake, and our love was never questioned. We were all going to grow older together telling stories of our youth, and laughing at our aches and pains. We were supposed to watch our grandchildren grow up, and celebrate all the milestones together as a family. We were supposed to…but we didn’t, we can’t. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, yet it did.  Dan went Home before we expected, before we wanted; and we are left to grieve.

These past few days my prayers have not been sweet, but rather stripped to the bone raw. God has heard my silent and not so silent screams; my gut wrenching sobs, my lashing anger, my desperate desires…my suffocating grief. My family and I had been preparing ourselves for the time when we would lose our aged father, just as we lost our mother a few years ago. But, no one prepared us, nor taught us, how to say good-bye to our little brother. We have to learn this one day, one minute, and one agonizing breath at a time: The journey is painful, tear filled, and prayerful.

PictureDan and Mom are together again
This past week, today included, has been bitter sweet. More bitter than sweet. On the one hand I can rest in the assurance that my little bro is in Heaven with Jesus and our mother and other loved ones. What could be more glorious than to be in the presence of Jesus? To see His face, hear His voice, and marvel in His embrace. As the song says, “I can only imagine.” But, while I give thanks for where my brother is, I also grieve his absence in our lives. One day, I’m sure, I will think of my brother with a smile. I will grow comfortable, if that’s the word, with his absence, knowing that I will see him again. One day the sweet will outweigh the bitter. Today however is not that day.

This past week my prayer time has been raw, primal and bitter sweet. I am eternally grateful that we have a God who loves us so much that He hears our cries, and feels our every tear. I am eternally grateful that my brother stepped from this world and into Jesus’ arms. I am thankful that I will one day see my little bro again, and until that day I will continue to pray. Some will be sweet; others may be bitter. All will be heartfelt. Thank you Jesus for your love.
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This article was written for a Faith Writer's Challenge. We were to write about "Sweet Hour of Prayer" But not use the song. This was also the time that my family and I were rocked by our brother's sudden death. When I first read the challenge words, my immediate response was "Yeah right. Sweet hour of prayer? More like Bitter time of suffering." Writing, for me, is therapeutic, so through my tears in in the middle of my grief I wrote this article for the challenge. I hesitated publishing it, since it is very personal, but I know that others like myself are also dealing with loss and grief, and perhaps you can relate. We are never alone. Our Lord is with us always, holding us in His arms through our grief. I am so very thankful for this.
Till We see you again Bro!

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    Sandy Wells was born and raised in Western New York. To be more exact, she lives right in the heart of farm country, where cows rule and clothes are still hung on the line to dry. Sandy has held a love for writing in her heart since she was a child. Over the years Sandy has written poetry, short stories, as well as monthly inspirational articles for her church newsletter. She has had articles published on Faithwriter’s.com, and has participated in the Faithwriter’s writing challenge. Sandy believes the written word holds power. Power to make you laugh, cry, learn and grow.

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