Mary Catherine was already quite old when I met her. She introduced herself to me at the church where I was serving on staff. She was from Oklahoma and a descendant of the Western Band of the Cherokee nation. She and her husband had moved to our community because of work at the university. Sadly, this once brilliant educator was now crippled by an illness that had stricken her only a few years before I met her. Though it did not affect her cognitive abilities, some of her motor skills were awkward and her speech was now slightly slurred. Though this outward disability deterred others from getting to know her, I took great pride in the fact that she wanted to be my mentor.

On Native American Awareness Sunday, I was asked to share during a small-group meeting about my Native American heritage and the various Native American ministries in The United Methodist Church. Mary Catherine was also there and, upon seeing a copy of Black Elk's Seven Rites of the Sacred Pipe, pointed at the cover and said, "I have a pipe like that one." Several weeks passed and nothing more was said about the traditional pipe. However, later that spring I told her I had accepted another ministry position and would be moving in the general direction from which she had come years before.

The next Sunday morning, she and her husband Richard asked me to visit with them after the church service. As I worked my way across the parking lot, I saw them leaning against the back of their automobile, holding a large brown grocery bag. She told me that, when she was just starting out in her career working with older adults, one of her regular participants, an elderly Native American man, gave her a brown paper bag. Inside the bag was a pipe that had belonged to his father. He told her this was not only a gift for what she had done for him, but a testimony to who she was and what he hoped for her life.

Mary Catherine stretched out her arm to me and said, "I am now giving this pipe to you. Here is Peace."

Four weeks later, as I was driving through the middle of Missouri, headed for my new home and work, I began to wonder about one of the questions from my interview. I remember clearly, "By the way, do you know how to take care of horses?" What kind of job had I accepted?!

Later that evening, when I arrived at the camp, I discovered that there were forty-six horses. The morning of the second day, I learned that eleven were pregnant and that I was expected to make sure that the foals got delivered. The third day, I found out that there was no longer a fence around the 640 acres to keep the horses from grazing alongside the county roads. And on the fourth day I learned that this was all my responsibility. Needless to say, I was faced with quite a challenge. As I leaned up against the railed fence, I found myself pondering my predicament and praying to the Lord for help.

One of the local folks must have realized the seriousness of what I was facing. He walked up to me and said, "Yup, you need Benny Smith." I didn't know who this man was, but at this point I was ready to listen to anyone willing to help me. When I called Benny, he agreed to help me get started.

I remember the first day I met him. I saw a white Ford pick-up truck in the distance stirring up dust on the road as it made its way toward the corral. When it stopped, out stepped a full-blooded Cherokee man wearing jeans, a denim shirt, chaps, and a baseball cap. He quietly began trimming and shaping the horses' hooves. Over time, the more we got to know each other, the more he would share his knowledge about horses with me. No one had ever spoken to me about horses like Benny did. He talked about their spiritual side, the relational aspect of horses, and how they were generally animals limited only by the minds of the people who owned them. He said that successful horse people learn from, communicate with, and work with the horse in order to accomplish goals. I soon became aware that this man was much more than a horse farrier. He also began to speak to me about personal spirituality, God, and prayer.

A few months went by before I asked Benny to come talk about his strong Cherokee roots and spirituality at one of our camps for Native American youth. He said, "I will teach you about prayer." He began, "Where is God? Some Cherokees believe that God is a passenger, a stowaway in your breath. God bears witness to everything we say. Let us pray." He turned to the East with an eagle feather held high in the air and asked us to stand and follow him as he prayed to God in the sacred directions of creation. He began, "Merciful Creator, thank you for the sun which purifies. It brings light into the world, enlightenment into the darkness, and understanding to the ignorant. Help us to be bearers of your light."

Turning to the South, he said, "Creator of life, thank you for times of growth. Thank you for nurturing us, helping us grow, for blessing us and enabling us to be a blessing to others."

Turning to the West, he said, "Father of our ancestors, thank you for the stories of your faithfulness to your people. Grant us the ears to listen to you and the wisdom to live accordingly."

Turning to the North he said, "Great Creator, thank you for the snow that winter brings. It purifies the earth and allows your creation to become renewed. You freeze life in mid-breath, holding it until you say it may live again so that we will remember always the mystery and our own humility. Thank you for the seasons of winter in our lives. It is the facing of such trials that allows you to renew our lives. Grant us the strength to endure them."

Turning toward the earth, he said, "Creator, we give you thanks for providing for our every need, for calling us out of the earth and seeking a relationship with each of us, and for granting us the opportunity to be in sacred relationship with you and all of your creation."

I was not surprised to discover that Benny was the assistant dean of coun-seling for Haskell Indian Nations University and a direct descendant of the old settlers from the Western Band of the Cherokee Nation. Needless to say, this man has had a profound effect upon my life and faith. I will always be grateful to him for teaching me the power of prayer.

Discussion Questions

• In what arenas of your daily life have you asked the Lord to be with you?
• Who has had an unexpected influence on you regarding God and prayer?
• Reflect on circumstances in your life that taught you the power of prayer.
• Who has God sent to be a messenger in your life?

Scripture

Prayers

Opening
Lord, teach us to pray! Help us learn to sit quietly and wait upon you. Allow us the faith to set aside the cares of the day. Help us focus on you. By your Spirit enable us to find peace in your presence. Help us find the words to express the concerns on our minds and the joys in our hearts. Help us to be faithful and committed to finding this quiet time with you each day. Amen.

Closing
Lord, you continually communicate your love to us in many different ways. Thank you for the gift of prayer and for how that gift grants us the freedom to talk to you and return that love in a variety of ways. Give us ears to hear your words, a heart to discern your message, and the courage to be faithful disciples. Amen.

Steve Dawson Blaze Blazina, an ordained deacon and a member of the Tennessee Conference, is of Cherokee descent.