“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.”

Thomas Fuller


She sat on one side of the sanctuary. I sat on the other. I glance her way every Sunday. Look to see she is in her spot. We had done a Bible study together. Shared a sofa during that time. I can’t say I know her well. I do know some of what she holds on her plate. I have shown her some of mine. Like most of us, it is hard and heavy.

I have listened to her prayer requests. Carried them home with me. Prayed over them. Occasionally stuck my head in her Sunday School class just to  share a word or two with her.

She didn’t have a clue my well was almost dry. That I had shouted to the heavens the whys and where are you God. Cried in my weariness of the fragile place I found myself in.

She knows of my love of books and words. How much I read. My struggle in my lack of independence. The whole not driving thing.

She walked right up to me a few Sundays ago. Handed me this book. Said, “I thought of you. Thought you might enjoy this. It made me think of you and the story you had shared.”  Missed Opportunity.

With all of her knowledge and wisdom, I am humbled she reads me here. We chatted a moment. She moves on to her place.

I look down at the book in my lap. Praying for Strangers. Squeezed my eyes tight. I knew I would fall in love with it. Knew somehow God had used her to place it in my hand.


My “quiet time” with the Lord was rich. I was lingering long. Leaving that place parched for more of Him.

Oh, but at night…at night when worry and fear set in. I sat by my bed on bended knee, with the breath of His Word up against my face, my prayers were frayed. So frayed. A thread so thin I feared it would break.

I had begun to feel like I was stuck on repeat. I almost wanted to quit. My longing for this thing to be resolved. I was sure I was wearing out The Almighty’s ears.

A precious friend, and dare I call her a spiritual daughter sent me a text…

“Persist in prayer and be consistent.”

I’m not sure who is mentoring who here. Our relationship a two-way street, where in my greed I take more than I give.

I opened the book, Praying for Strangers by River Jordan, began to read.

“And I wonder what my life would look like if I lived this way, walking and breathing out prayers. Blessings and peace and prayers and wonders and miracles for all that I encounter. I wonder what the city would look like if we all did that, if the world was one big cup of prayer for one day. Only one day. I wonder.”

Pages later, I come to this…

“Still, I believe in God~and I believe in prayer. Color me crazy. I’ll just keep praying.”

It was in that moment, God gave me glimpses of Grace. Fifty-five years worth of His handprint all over the pages of my life.

Handprints On The Pages of My Life

When you can’t see Him~feel Him

Can’t find Him in this thing

You sit in the stillness of all that He is

The birds sing

The doves coo

Trees dance in the wind

All of a sudden the scenes of Him flash before your eyes

A handprint there

A handprint here

In the dark

He was in that place

Where you thought it would never end

In the gaping wound

The heart laid bare

Spent and empty

The bottom of the pit

Where He pulled you out

Just a glimpse to show me 

He is here…

In the now 

The days 

The pain

Of all that is to come

The good~the bad~the hard

The empty spaces in my heart

Like the stars laid across the night sky

His Handprint across every page of my life


How in the world could I even doubt? All I need do is look back. Back at the handprints all over my life.

I love Him like crazy. Want so much more. He will strengthen my threadbare prayers. I’ll never stop believing. I’ll keep persisting. Stay consistent. I will wait on Him to show His Glory in this hard thing. Stomp my feet along the way. Shed more tears, I’m sure.

Yes, “color me crazy.” I don’t want this any other way.

“And so I tell you, keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” Luke 11:9~10 NLT

Graced by God

Tammy Mashburn