Thursday, March 31, 2011


I have forgotten how to pray. I find that odd. How do I know this? Well, I'm following the trials of a little guy named Linus who has already had two open heart surgeries in his five short months. His two brothers (yes, they are a trio) are doing great, but he is struggling. His mommies must split their time between newborns at home and the hospital a couple hours away while he fights for his life. Mommies are surely exhausted, but mostly ask for prayers when well-wishers want to know what to do. So, they asked. So, from 1500 miles away, I did it. I prayed for the first time in many, many years.

I tried really hard one night, but then I realized that it takes some concentration when it's as unfamiliar as it now is to me. So, I tried again the next morning while I was running. That was much easier because the act of running helps clear out the noise in my head allowing me to focus on just a couple things at a time.

So, I said a couple of prayers, one to a god and one to a goddess - for good measure.

I don't know if it did any good, but it's what the mommies asked for. I do know that Linus made it through his surgery that day, so it didn't hurt.

I still think it's odd that I forgot how to do this. It doesn't bother me, really because let's face it, I couldn't be more agnostic if I tried. If there is a heaven and a hell, I'm a good enough person to at least avoid hell. If there is a god or goddess, I haven't done anything horrific. I have some room for improvement, but I'm a decent enough person that a deity probably wouldn't turn me away.

I just assumed that praying was like riding a bike - you never forget. Of course, Bub is a walking testament that that old adage is false.

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