[wpdreams_ajaxsearchlite]
Categories: Hazel Rosetta Smith,
Over sixty years ago, my father gave my mother a set of silver bracelets. I saw them first in the jewelry section of Lord & Taylor’s department store on Fifth Avenue. I commented to my father about the unique swirl of silver in the design. My mother loved them and wore them constantly. When my mother passed, my eldest sister placed the bracelets on my wrist.
To say the bracelets were precious to me would be an understatement. I wore them consistently because they held a special place in my heart.
I knew my father had prayed on the bracelets and I knew I could do nothing less. They became a part of my prayer time. This was not idolatry, I was not worshipping the bracelets, they were a reminder to me to spread my father’s love.
Like a bolt from the blue, at a Sunday worship service at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, I remembered what my sister said when she gave the bracelets to me, “When you give something you love to somebody, that person will be blessed. Before you give it, pray on it, and pray for them.”
As I clapped my hands with the voices of the church’s choir, my eyes were fixed on the bracelets as they jingled on my arm. It is amazing when you know that you know that you know something, and yet cannot explain how you know, you just do.
I stepped out of the pew, made my way down the aisle, and placed one bracelet on the arm of the one I knew was to receive the blessing. The woman whose name I will not reveal is adored with high regard in our community. She was quite surprised at my action, yet humbly accepted the bracelet. The only words I could say to her were, “Remember when you look at this bracelet, someone is praying for you.” I know my mother was pleased that I could let it go.
For whatever reason, we do tend to hold tight to what we deem to be our prized possessions. Though it may be ever dear to your heart, everything has a destiny, and it will make its way like a message in a bottle on the ocean, long after we are gone.
And that is the way the story goes. I look across the church aisle and smile at the person who owns my mother’s prized bracelet, and it still warms my heart, more than she will ever know. If she happens to read this article, I hope that she knows whenever our eyes meet, that the prayer is going up and the blessings are coming down. To God be the glory for the great things He has done.
Hazel Rosetta Smith is a journalist, playwright, and artistic director for Help Somebody Theatrical Ministries and HRS Speaks! Retired, former Managing Editor and Woman’s Editor of the New York Beacon. Contact: misshazel@twc.com and online www.hazelrosettasmith.com)
