Before my father died, I was a devout, card carrying atheist. My mother is a Christian. My brother keeps his own council. My husband is a Buddhist. My father an agnostic.
In the metropolis where my parents once lived, there was a phenomenon that doesn’t exist in my small town. There are churches the size of baseball stadiums! I was amazed to think of worshipping with 9, 999 ofmy closest friends. I was naive. I was converted. I was changed.
You see on the day my father had surgery – this church of 10,000 people prayed for me and my family. They did not tell me what the prayer was. I was vaguely aware of their habits – but didn’t think too much about it. After the surgery, as I made the obligatory phone calls to keep everyone informed – I told Manny and Sylvia – how magical the day had been. I told them that I felt weightless. My heavy heart felt light for the first time in weeks. It was then that I learned of this prayer. In this church they hold up their hands, open their hearts, and pray to their God. They ask that I be lifted up! They don’t presume to know what God’s plans are for me or my family. They don’t prescribe the miracle that God shall perform. It is a simple prayer. Thy will be done. It is powerful stuff.
To Manny and Sylvia and to all those who interceded on our behalf. Gracias. I love you.