Traveling Mercies

When I was a kid, my parents and I were part of Main Street United Methodist Church. A little church in downtown Covington, where there was often a drifter stopping by asking for food or gas money.

 On Sunday morning, the pastor wore a robe and the congregation recited The Apostle's Creed like all good Methodists. But our Sunday and Wednesday evening services took on a more casual style, where prayer requests were written down and the saints took to their knees to be about the serious business of approaching the throne of God.

Mrs. Clifton was one of those saints. On Sunday mornings, she blended in with the rest, singing the hymns and placing her offering envelope in the place. But Wednesday night, Mrs. Clifton took her place of leadership.

We protestants take a crazy kind of pride in the fact that we don't need a pope to serve as an intercessor to God, that we can approach Him individually, but even as a 10 year old, I instinctively knew that Mrs. Clifton was Main St.'s own personal pope. Trust me, God listened to her, if for no other reason, she could wear Him down because she took the Bible verse "Pray without ceasing" literally.

 She even had her own language, and it wasn't speaking in tongues either. She used words like "thou" and "thine." She addressed God as Father, Savior, Crucified One, Redeemer, Holy One, Lord and Sweet Jesus. She proclaimed her love and amazement for Him, asked for Mercy and Grace. She begged for forgiveness from our sins of omission and commission. She spoke specific names of the sick and the lost.

Sometimes I thought she was winding down when her voice grew quiet for a bit, but really she was just taking a break, regrouping, and she would start up again. Sometimes I prayed along with her, although my prayer was frequently that God would answer Mrs. Clifton's prayer so she would quit praying.

All of these years later, my favorite prayer phrase of Mrs. Clifton is "traveling mercies." Back then, my mom explained that meant she was praying for those who were traveling or were on the road. I thought they were both crazy because if you looked around at our working class congregation even I knew there wasn't a lot of vacationing going on with this group.

This week I couldn't help but think of Mrs. Clifton.

I traveled to Santa Fe with two friends, Cathy and Mary. It was a repeat trip of last summer, but my growing state of mental health caused me to think of other things besides how I was going to manage my eating disorder. This year, I thought about the actual trip. . the airplanes, the driving on unfamiliar streets, walking after dark without my dog. I actually thought this might be an occasion to use Mrs. Clifton's prayer for traveling mercies.

When I was safely home, I got a call from my mom telling me that one of my uncles had just died. Seems like I wasn't the only one traveling, and with that thought, I understood Mrs. Clifton's prayers.

We all travel whether we ever leave town or not. Each of us walks our own path, takes our own journey. None of us manages to travel through life without finding our way into a dark valley or two. We all get lost, our battery dies, we run out of gas. Sometimes we go on solitary walks and other times we march together.

Since my walk away from a painful relationship with my ex-husband and then again from anorexia, I've embraced Darryl Scott's song lyrics:

I walk a crooked road to get where I am going, to get where I am going I must walk a crooked road.

This reassures me that I'm not the only one who has taken the long route and it also reminds me that my road will continue to be crooked. And maybe that's the way it's designed. Maybe all the interesting roads, the roads worth traveling are crooked.

Maybe when Mrs. Clifton prayed for traveling mercies she was asking God to walk with us, to keep our eyes open on the journey. Maybe she was asking God to lead us to other travelers that could use some support or help. Maybe her prayer was for those facing changes, going through sicknesses, preparing to die.

I think from now on, when Grace and I walk we will simply pray for traveling mercies. . outside of thank you, it may be the best prayer ever.