Prayer

Sometimes I need to believe in God. Don’t we all? When a sudden panic grips me — oh, it’s late, why isn’t he home? He didn’t ride his bike in this weather, did he? What if he’s lying on the street somewhere, bleeding, what if he’s in the hospital? That’s when I pray, God, oh God, please.

Or when my mother doesn’t pick up the phone after I haven’t called her for a week — what if she’s lying there, dead, sick, unable to move. God, oh God, please.

On the other hand, I feel I don’t deserve to pray like that, not when I ignore God most of the time, not when I’m pretty sure He doesn’t exist — or if He does exist, I just want Him to leave me alone, like everyone else.

So what I pray is more like, oh God, do what You want, I just really hope what You want is that my boyfriend, my mother, my brother, my friends, and all their loved one, are ok. I really hope that’s what You would consider adequate now, in Your wisdom.

But whatever happens, even if it’s the worst, I pray that I can understand why, that I can accept it, that I can do what I’m supposed to do.

That’s when I really understand the power of prayer. It’s not about getting help. It’s about placing everything: your will, your love, your fate, in the hands of another, higher power. Giving it away, relinquishing control. That’s where the hope lies and the worry ends. The moment you can truly say “Thine will be done.”