What Prayers Smell Like

At too early o’clock, the alarm sounds.
The day is here.
Today we might have an answer to an unknown.
Is it cancer?
Is it fixable?
Whatever it is, we are ready.
“No surprises” has become our catch phrase.
Something mom and I share, but have never really even discussed.
We just know what it means to us, and what we face.
This day I wake with the mechanics of our schedule ordering my steps.
My Bible is on the round, “I think I look expensive but I’m not” desk in the corner of the room.
It remains unopened, as I am tied to the long hand of the clock.
Shouldn’t I feel guilty about that?
Because I don’t.
Shouldn’t I feel anxious about what the day holds?
About what the doctors will find?
Because I don’t.
I actually am feeling a little anxious over not feeling anxious.
Over not feeling bothered by leaving the Bible unopened this early morning.
I slip on my jacket, certain that Charleston’s early May weather will hand me a chill as I exit the hotel.
I leave momma in the room while I load her breath-giving silver tanks onto a luggage dolly and head downstairs.
The sun is bright.
Markedly so.
Almost as if it’s illuminated by all it touches, in reflection.
It casts interesting dancers across the hotel lobby floor, which is all shiny and newly polished.
As I step beyond the grand entrance into the world, it hits me.
And God says to my heart, “Child, do not be anxious. Your peace comes from Me. This is what it feels like to be enveloped in the loving arms of your Savior, and the prayers lifted on your momma’s behalf and for you? Breathe in the sweet aroma. This is the smell of prayers.”
The air is warm, and laden with a familiar, briny fragrance rolling in from the waters.
Momma’s always loved the coasts of the Carolinas.
There’s just something healing in the sands, the sounds, the smells of the shore.
I need no jacket this day, for I am wrapped in the warmth and comfort of Christ.
And a bunch of  wonderfully fragrant prayers.

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