Yesterday at our regular 8 a.m. Sunday prayer meeting, the little band of us who come to pray were fighting hard against the Green Dust. It was evident. One by one, we were for some reason all praying along the same lines — that God would help us by removing our indifferent and calcified hearts and giving us love and faith and zeal for his kingdom.

I have to tell you: excepting me, these are the most fervent prayer warriors in our church. These are the ones at the crack of dawn Friday and Saturday prayer meetings; these are the ones who show up when widows and divorcees need strong backs to carry their sofas to a new apartment; these are the ones who took it seriously at baptisms when the congregation in unison recited our oath to watch out for each other’s children.

There is not their equal at our church. And yet, they — we — were all struggling not to go under for the third time.

At the end of the meeting, someone said aloud, “Everybody needs a marshwiggle.” And we smiled, remembering good old Puddleglum in The Silver Chair, who held out longer than his three companions against the green powder that the white witch had poured onto the hearth, releasing a deadly drowsiness into the air that all were succumbing to. When Puddleglum perceived what was happening, he roused himself and ran to the fireplace and stomped out the fire. Soon, all shook themselves back to sanity and faith in Aslan and Narnia.

I hope you have marshwiggles in your life too.