I wake every morning peering through the small opening between the bedroom curtains, trying to discern if what I’m seeing is merely the light of a new day or if the sun is actually shining. How it lifts my spirits to see sun. I balance the reality that each day is unique with a striving to establish some sort of loose schedule. What is already unique about today is the piece of paper I left on my night table before I went to sleep. A dear friend is having cancer surgery today, another friend shared with us a prayer for him, so I began the day with a deep focus on her soulful words and will continue to keep the paper close, repeating the words for the next 7 hours until I hear he is in recovery. And then in the days and weeks which follow, continue to hold him and his wellbeing close.
I sound so pious - in the previous post, my poem offered a prayer, and here I am praying again. Truthfully, I never can say when I am praying to whom I am addressing those prayers, what concept or faith I have when I offer those prayers. (There’s a wonderful scene in West Wing when Zoe Bartlett has been kidnapped and Debby Fiderer tells Abby Bartlett in the aftermath that she is so happy all is well and that she prayed for Zoe, then adding that since she is an agnostic, perhaps God would have been affronted by her prayers, so maybe it would have worked against Zoe…)
Add to that uncertainty a difficult childhood in which my prayers seemed never to be heard. And yet as I write these words I am close to tears - always I pray for those I love and those I don’t know but whose existence demands my prayers. I pray earnestly, with full strength and force - the prayers are after all not about me and my questionable faith - they are about those who need the prayer and the heart with which I offer it. I will be with you, my friend, in these next hours, praying, and in the weeks and months to follow, I will fold you into the long list of others who also need my ongoing prayers.
What are your prayers today?