Skip to main content

Faith and Prayer

I'm not a God person or a Jesus person. I don't go to church. I don't pray. I don't find solace in a higher power or through the act of prayer. I've never felt that good things come from "leaving it in God's hands" or by requesting prayer warriors join me in sending good thoughts into the universe. It's not for lack of trying. As a kid, I went to church every week with my mom. I baptized the kids. I've read Bible verses and listened to others share their opinion on faith. I've knelt on the ground and tried to ask God for forgiveness and for hope. Unlike others, whom I have envied, God has not spoken to me. I have found no value in prayer. It has brought me no comfort. I would prefer to meditate, write, or talk things through with a friend. Rather than ask others to pray, I prefer to ask for help, to ask someone to listen, or to bear witness.

Like I said, this is not for lack of trying. I've wanted to find faith and I've wanted to be comforted. I have anxiety in general and, in particular, about death, so knowing I am going to be cradled in God's arms and enter the pearly gates sounds great! Finding strength in a prayer circle- sign me up! Except, we can't be who we are not, and so, I have accepted me for me and I have come to terms with the fact that organized religion and prayer is not for me.

Until today. Today, I started to pray.

Over the summer, I made a comment to a very wise woman (you know who you are; I'll keep your identity secret here since you are an introvert) about my annoyance with prayer warrior comments. She reminded me why people pray. She reminded me that anyone can pray, no matter your race, or religion or socio-economic status. She reminded me that when your cup is drained, and your turned out pockets turn up nothing, and your heart is broken you can still have hope and that hope can come in the form of prayer.

I woke up this morning and I prayed. Well, first I cried- a ton. And I turned to my community for support and to listen and to be heard. But, I also prayed. I pray for peace and I pray for love and I pray that dark days are not ahead. I pray that this wake up call mobilizes us to act and do so with vigor and with passion and intent. I ask all of you prayer warriors to get on your knees and do all you can to find it within your (bleeding liberal or otherwise) heart to forgive those who feel so angry and alone and alienated that they chose a candidate who openly hates others, a candidate who promised a wall to keep out those who look to our country for freedom and hope just as our families once did, a candidate who promotes violence against women; a candidate who intimidates and bullies; a candidate who promises things that I fear he might deliver. Today, my cup feels drained and I look for hope and so I pray. Perhaps this challenging (I really mean terrible) turn of events is the catalyst I needed in order to see that my faith is right in front of me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Charlotte's Story

What can you do in seventeen minutes? Watch an episode of your favorite sitcom without commercials? Run two miles at a good clip? Eat a meal, or in Andy's case, microwave a meal and then eat it? Have a baby? Because that's what I did. You heard me right. I birthed a baby in seventeen minutes because I am a machine. I am a machine ! I am a baby birthing woman of steel. I am not much of a bragger and you may recall that I was never good and never bad at anything. I have no particular achievements to tout, academically, physically, professionally or otherwise except baby birthing. I'm really good at this and I'm pretty darn proud of it and I'd like to brag about it to you now. This is Charlotte's birth story. For the first four or five months of my pregnancy with Charlotte, most people forgot that I was even pregnant. This does happen to you with multiple pregnancies. I never forgot that I was pregnant. Morning sickness heart burn and frequent bathroom t

Spoiler Alert!

It's no big shock that I opened my mouth and got myself in trouble earlier this week. This time it was my virtual mouth, and we all know that can be the worst. Saying something stupid, online, is like spreading a highly contagious virus. Speaking of which, with all of my recent coughing and sneezing, I've been really good at spreading a germy virus around. I teach students to be social media savvy, and gosh darn it, I did so as recent as yesterday. I provide them with some rules to protect them from looking like a virtual ass, but low and behold, I fall victim to assiness every once in a while. How am I supposed to know every single rule in life, and particularly online? I'm just a simple human being, with a big mouth, who wants to over share! So, here's what went down, if you didn't get pissy pants over my FB faux pas. I watched the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead on Sunday night. Andy was in the can and I just needed to talk about the episode. I needed t

LAX

Some people may think that Andy and I are "lax" parents. Our house isn't a free range farm by any means, although just throwing food on the ground, and letting the kids wander around and pick it up when they are hungry, sounds pretty enticing. It's true that we aren't the strictest parents and that, regularly, there is mutiny on the bounty and we are held hostage by little pirate people. The drill sergeant in our house is 3 feet tall and belts outs commands like, "Get me a drink!", "Turn on Netflix!", or "You will not wash my hair!" while wearing only a pullup, squinting her eyes, and pointing an accusatory finger in our direction. Our kids are often in charge. I'm not going to lie to you. The dog may also be in charge from time to time. That's just the way it goes. As more and more of our peers have a third child, we are, unfortunately, asked if we, too, plan to expand. Are these people insane in the membrane? Have they been