The Power of Prayer
I have always prayed in some shape or form. My Yia-Yia made sure of that from a young age.
We would go to church often enough, finding her in the front row, dressed in black (like almost every other elderly Greek Cypriot woman there), hunched over, and often on her knees. I couldn’t believe it, nor could I understand it. She could barely stand, yet she would kneel?! And yet this was her practice, her daily practice, which intensified after the death of my grandfather at age forty-seven.
Yia-Yia taught me to pray, that demonstration of belief, faith and trust, and encouraged me to put myself and my concerns into the hands of something greater.
And yet she lived her life in constant worry; worry for her family, her children, grandchildren and then when they arrived, her great-grandchildren. If I could go back in time, I would have told her “If you are going to pray, then don’t worry; if you are going to worry, then don’t pray.”
Whilst her prayer was an authentic heartfelt experience, her doubt, fear and worry would have surely stifled her relationship with God at times.
I could talk to her about anything, and she was the hand that held mine each day, through any hardships, encouraging me to pray. So, I did. Prayer would always help me feel better, but I realised years later how limiting my prayers had been.
After my Yia-Yia died, there was such a loss in our lives. Sure, she was old, and had lived a long life. She had seen grandchildren graduate, marry, and even have their own children (privileges I know many may not have). Yet the loss was still enormous. I missed our daily chats, her voice, her laugh and how I missed her hands (those beautiful soft hands).
I felt engulfed by darkness. She had been my spiritual guide, my lighthouse, and I realised the foundation upon which I was standing was rocky. I needed help. I needed to establish myself in this world without her physically here.
This time of healing which included self-care, prayer and connecting with something greater than myself, became crucial for the path I was to take, not only personally but professionally. It also became critical in my role in helping Dimitra when she became ill.
I am talking about prayer today because of the time of year it is. It is the eve of one of the most significant days in the Greek church and holds a very special place in my heart. Yiayia had always implored me to go to church on this day, and when we were losing our Dimitra, I finally listened and went. I remember standing alone in church late at night, hearing the chanting that touches your soul, and weeping, for our loss of Yiayia and now our soon-to-be loss of Dimitra. I remember the profound offering that occurred that night, and then the miracle that took place the very next day with Dimitra. That will stay with me for the rest of my life.
These days, I find life almost impossible without prayer, and without trusting in a divine plan. This does not mean I sit idle, waiting for ‘destiny’ to play out; rather, I pray for a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that I might know more fully and fulfil my purpose for the time that I am here.
Prayer has changed my life and I wonder, no matter your background and beliefs, if you might take a few moments today to contemplate prayer and true offering to something greater than ourselves. It truly has the power to change our lives.
And now it’s not my Yiayia’s hand that holds mine; I have put my life into the hands of someone much greater, and I know she would be very thankful for that.