Crossing my Dashboard

A few weeks before Christmas, an old friend who is a part of our Tuesday men’s discussion group gave me (and all the guys in our group) a wooden “prayer cross.” It’s designed to fit in your hand while you pray. I took one for my wife, one for me, and one to give away.

My wife lost her mom a year ago. My dad passed away three weeks ago.

And right now as I type, I have a dear friend in the ICU with COVID. His name is Steven Vaughn and there are scores of people in Charlotte and beyond praying for him. I put that wooden prayer cross that my friend gave me in my truck cup holder to remind me to pray for Steven. Then I noticed that it would fit perfectly between my air conditioning controls, and that keeps it in front of me all the time. Except when I’m going up a hill. Or accelerating too fast. When I’m doing either of those, it falls off into the center console. But that has reminded me to pray for him even more, because when I’m going up a hill, I am reminded that Steven and his family and all the friends around him are climbing up this hill together. And when I mash the gas pedal and it falls, I’m reminded that sometimes I need to slow down to pray.

I’ll keep this wooden prayer cross on my dash until he comes home from the hospital. Until then, with hope as my anchor (Hebrews 6:19), I will pray for him every single time I see that cross on my dash. Every. Single. Time. If it falls down, I’ll know to pause and pray. Then I’ll put it right where it needs to be until my dear friend comes home.

By the way, I should mention the name of the man who gave me that wooden prayer cross on that Tuesday a couple of months ago. It’s a very dear and old friend of mine. His name is Steven Vaughn.

I love you man. Keep fighting for LIFE. We are with you.