One Little Old Lady Whispered a Prayer

When I listen for it, I can still hear the wavering notes of the old upright piano, and the warbling but exuberant voice of my Sunday school teacher guiding a handful of third-graders, one of them me, through these simple lyrics:

Whisper a prayer in the morning,

Whisper a prayer at noon,

Whisper a prayer in the evening,

To keep your heart in tune.

God answers prayer in the morning,

God answers prayer at noon,

God answers prayer in the evening,

To keep your heart in tune.

Jesus may come in the morning,

Jesus may come at noon,

Jesus may come in the evening,

So keep your heart in tune.

At the ripe age of 8 years, I didn't understand the true meaning of the words in this old-fashioned little melody, and felt a great deal of embarrassment at having to sing it. Opal, our devoted teacher who seemed much older to me than she really was, never appeared to notice that we sang half-heartedly. She couldn't know we didn't really understand what we sang, even as simple it seems.

Her heart was all-in.  My own heart took decades to fall for God like hers did.  Fully, and with abandon.

It took another 20 years for me to start whispering any prayers at all with real faithfulness, and another decade to feel the freedom of crying out to God when nothing else mattered but his holy hand on my weak, human self, comforting and guiding without pause, and overflowing with grace.  Just for me any time I asked.

If little (she stood about 4 feet 11 inches) old Opal could have seen our futures unfold, the smile below those black-rimmed granny glasses would have spread across the soft but deep lines on her cheerful face, and her western Pennsylvania accent would have exclaimed, "Well, bless your heart!" Her greatest dreams came to life through prayers she likely prayed for us every day.

  

Prayer has great power.

Opal never married and had children of her own, so we played that part in her life.  Her desire to lead us youngsters in Sunday school after a long week of pushing a broom in a department store testified louder than her voice, and our simple understanding of all that is holy mixed with respect for our teacher gave us softer soil for the seeds Opal planted to land and take root.

Twenty years later, when whispered prayers began to spill from my own heart, I finally understood the meaning of those simple, quaint, old lyrics.

Prayer keeps my heart in tune.
Waiting patiently for God's answers maintains my heart.
I have an important job in remaining prayerful in preparation for Jesus' return, alert and ready to recognize him.

Big things from such a little song.

Thank you, Opal, for planting seeds that sprouted and took root.  Thank you for sharing the gospel simply and with your whole heart.  You saw fields available for planting and moved right along, reaching out in the ways you knew, with your Bible in hand and a prayer on your lips.

Thank you, dear lady, for doing what God called you to do.