I am sure you remember that song Garth Brooks wrote and performed about thanking God for unanswered prayers. I don’t believe there are any unanswered prayers.
For over a year now, my prayers have been answered.
I asked for help with my husband. My prayers were answered when my former spouse gave me a final reason to leave. My help was not along the line I was thinking, but it certainly was help and a way out.
I asked for help with a solution to where to stay when I left. My brother asked me to come and help his family by staying with the children while he and my sister-in-law went to China to get their fifth child.
I asked for protection and good health for the four children and me when their parents were in China. We only used one band-aid in two weeks, and no one even got the sniffles.
I asked for the ability to buy my tiny house, and I was approved for a mortgage and closing was a day early, in this economy. Even with a broken right hand, I was able to sign all the papers.
I asked for my constant tears to dry up. They have. I no longer cry easily at kindnesses shown me.
I asked for my divorce to go through without my former spouse holding things up. It did, and he didn’t.
I asked for inspiration and motivation for my writing. A blogging workshop was offered at the Central Library; I attended, and came home to begin blogging forty-four posts ago.
I asked that my mother not suffer in her final days. She didn’t.
I don’t believe in unanswered prayers, and I don’t think this happens for just me. I think this happens over and over again for anyone who pays close enough attention. I am paying very close attention.