I inherited Mom’s prayer chair. It is a fluffy upholstered seat that hugs you when you sit in it. It has a matching ottoman for my feet. The fabric has a white background with a floral pattern of blues and greens. A soothing place to sit.

Next to it, is a table with a family tree. Each leaf is a photograph of a family member from her parents to every one of her 9 grandchildren. There are prayer beads too, and when Mom had this chair, all of her prayer books were laid upon the table as well. She sat in this chair every morning. No wonder when I sit here I feel the peace of God. This chair has been bathed in His presence. 

Her prayers for me went up from this place. Incense in the heavenly places. Captured and put in a bowl beside His throne. A scarlet thread of connection between earth and heaven. A tiny thread tying me to God, by the whispered words of my mother. I am covered in prayers thanks to her. She joined hers with those of Jesus who intercedes for me at the right hand of God.

When she left this earth, her prayers did not end. They are the fragrance of heaven. Poured into bowls beside God himself. I did not lose my best prayer warrior, she is simply is at the other end of the thread now.

And my place is at this end. Here in this chair. Continuing the long-held job of mothers everywhere. Praying. For my children. For those whom I love. And those I don’t. For my own heart to be soft. For the world which is groaning. For His kingdom to come. For His will to be done.

This week I am particularly in need of prayer. Apalachee. 9-11. 10-7. All the violence does a number on my heart. I want to curl up in a ball under my covers. It feels so heavy, so beyond my scope to grasp. My heart is broken into pieces which seem to shatter again every year around this time.

I miss my mom. I miss knowing her prayers are covering me. There is an extra ache in my heart this year. But when I sit in her prayer chair, I feel connected to heaven. I am held up by her prayers which are still lingering in the throne room. In this chair, I feel comfort that this world is not my home. On days where the heaviness is unbearable and there are no words to describe the heartache, I am glad for that reality.