The wall, ancient and worn, was stuffed with sacred prayer notes left by those who had made their way to the ancient city of Jerusalem with the specific intent to pray at that location. The physical challenge of hills and uneven sandstone tiles along ancient pathways had dotted the labored walk along which the “tour” of Jerusalem had taken us. The ancient olive garden that had been identified as The Garden of Gethsemane was next to the old cemetery that had long ago been filled. Both lay across the valley from the closed gate to the city through which the Messiah will return and the gates will be then opened eternally. As I stood there at the western wall with both hands placed firmly on the stones laid thousands of years ago the feel of the wall was alive. Warmed by the sun of this semi-tropic climate, the stones smoothed by thousands of hands before mine seemed to welcome my touch and embrace the yearnings of my heart. As I silently laid my prayers before my Lord at this age-old location, I was filled with the presence of gratitude for visions of what is possible and thankfulness for what is now. The memory of those moments will be with me forever and I now believe insight into ways to pray was opened during those moments. It was not the wall, it was not the city, it was not my fervent desire laid upon the stone, but it was a thankful heart embraced by a mind diving deeper in the waters of gratitude that opened this grace receiver to the miracles of a Creator who never ceases to create.
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