THE POWER OF PRAYER

A couple of weeks ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a camp hosted for the local Young Women in our little corner of the world. Girls Camp was something I never looked forward to myself as a teenager, but I can honestly say that those five days out in the woods changed me. I am a full-on believer of Girls Camp, now.

That last statement is shocking my own Young Womens leaders as we speak. I can feel it drifting towards me in waves all the way from Utah 😉

Perhaps this alteration in attitude comes from maturity and age. Perhaps it comes from all of the wonderful women I served with, ones I never would have survived the elements without. Perhaps it was because I didn't have to sleep in a tent and had an actual bathroom 😉

I think it was probably a combo of all of those reasons, but the one that hedges out all of the rest is those girls. We have the best girls. It is no competition. Each and every time I hang out with our youth, I cannot understand why people are so fearful of our future. These girls are warriors, leaders, missionaries, faithful saints, and examples of Christ. I promise you, with them leading the way, we are in good hands.

Their sweet spirits taught me so much. I could write a whole other novel on the connections to heaven they presented me with, and did so just by being who they are. However, there is one in particular that has really been sticking with me.

I cannot remember the exact morning, because one of the side effects of Girls Camp is that all the days blur together, but at one point, our incredible Young Women's President gave a devotional to all of our beautiful daughters of God. She spoke of being a light, of being different, and being unafraid to speak out when you know something to be true. It was great, and something I needed to hear. (As was the other devotional, and the many kind comments bestowed upon me up in the mountains. I felt so, so loved at Girls Camp.)

Later that evening, (I am positive on that timeline 😂) to tie things back to what we started the day with, the Young Women were all presented with a pen, a small piece of paper, and a balloon. Penning a goal onto the slip, the girls then stuffed their words into the balloon. The balloon with a light inside. Once all balloons were filled with helium, we later made our way down to the meadow to release them into the air.

For some reason, some of the balloons did not lift off when filled with helium. Which turned out to be a blessing from God, because, as many balloons hung around us, bobbing and swaying, the girls began to sing hymns to the night sky by the light of their goals and their souls. There were very few dry eyes in that clearing.

However, the faulty balloons taught me yet another lesson.

While looking up and watching the twenty or so balloons that managed to begin their ascent up to the stars, I noticed that three of the girls had tied their balloon strings together. With their helium combined, that little grouping was able to make it up to the rest of their soaring friends.

When my fellow, awesome leader friend later commented, "I wonder if that is what our prayers look like going up to heaven?", I couldn't picture it any other way. Especially with that little bundle of hope.

Sometimes, it can feel like our prayers aren't being answered. Like they don't have any power. Since God is the God of the universe, and can do as He wishes, what does it matter if we offer a plea on our behalf, or on the behalf of others? I mean, is it really going to make any difference? Will it change the outcome for the one being prayed for? Can they even feel it, as we send petitions up to heaven for their aid? Can we feel it from the placement of our own cries?

I am here to tell you, yes. Watching that little trio of balloons float to the sky, I know that the power of prayer is real. I've witnessed it. I've witnessed what happens when people come together and pray, or when one person is brave enough to continue praying.

I saw it when I walked into the kitchen at Camp, this black heart almost brought to tears as ten Young Women gathered together to pray for a peer.

I felt it from my own Young Womens Leaders. Though I never saw it done specifically for me, I have no doubt it was. Their love spoken in prayer helped to keep me rooted in high school, safe from temptation, and reminded me of my worth as a daughter of God.

I could swear I almost heard the prayers of my mother, while overwhelmed and homesick at the Missionary Training Center, comforting me when I needed it most.

I am a witness to the miracle a child's prayer can produce, as my nightly prayers for well over a decade included, "Please help Grandpa to quit smoking." He did, and became an example of what a disciple of Christ really looks like.

I feel it is my duty, to do what was requested of us in that devotional that morning underneath the sunshine, the rays bouncing off of my alabaster skin and probably blinding people. I was challenged, just like the girls, to stand out, be different, be a light, and stand up for what I know in my heart to be true.

I know the power of prayer is real. In a world that says it does nothing, I'm here to say it works miracles. I have felt the strength, the love, the guidance, and the reassurance it gives me. Whether it is several people praying for someone they love, one person praying over and over again for someone they love, or a hurting soul stringing pleas together for themselves, they are heard. They are received. They are beautiful lights shining in the night sky, reminding all that He is there. He is listening. He is love.