Prayer Rugs

I have two white cotton mats, furniture pads really, that I sit on each morning at the beach. I have had them for almost 20 years. They were given to me by my friend Darin to use when I moved into my first apartment. When I went to give them back to him, he said, "keep them, they might come in handy." And they have indeed. I have used them several times for moving. But for the most part they have lived in the back of my vehicles, protecting trunks and cargo areas  from dirt and debris. 

That was their function for nearly 18 years. But for the last year or so they have been given a new calling. They are my daily prayer rugs. They are sanctified. Two little white cotton squares, barely even a full square yard between them, that make up my seaside prayer closet.

In this new purpose they have a new status. They are placed daily upon holy ground. They are warmed by sunlight, fresh ocean breezes flow through their fibers. And they are washed more often. Over the first 18 years I doubt I washed them more than a handful of times as they labored in anonymity, imprisoned in the darkness of a car trunk or bound by packing tape around some more precious possession. Now they are clean, white, cherished by and for their service and made holy by God's very presence. They are not gilded or embroidered but they have a certain loveliness to me all the same. 

It occurred to me that 20 years ago or perhaps longer even, on the day they were first woven, God saw the journey they would take. He saw the workhorse ignominy, the unappreciated sacrifices that would render them worn in places. And yet He saw to it that those threads would be woven tight, thick and strong. He preserved them, maintained them. He kept them from being thrown away as I was inclined to do more than once, whispering to me, "keep them, they may come in handy."

And the day came when I came to this beach to seek God's face. I needed something to sit on while I prayed. And there they were waiting faithfully in the back of my RAV4. I pulled them out into the glorious light of a new day. Since then they have been reborn. No longer are they treated like doormats. They are treated kindly, they are washed regularly, folded nicely and packed away neatly into a large beach bag I bring with me each morning.

There are days when I feel forgotten. Like some used up old furniture pad that no one wants unless there's a dirty thankless job to be done. But He is keeping me through it all. Holding the fibers of my being together when I feel like I am coming apart. He sees my future from far off. He knows that when this time of testing is over He will have a use for me, that I will most certainly "come in handy." He has a good plan for me and He is not going to discard me.

I am precious to Him, sanctified by His presence and eager to be used. I am not perfect or especially pure in spirit but I am lovely to Him. He keeps me clean by the continual renewal of my mind and the endlessness of His mercy. And when I seek Him and cry out to Him with all my heart, He comes and pulls me out of the darkness into the glorious light of a new day.