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  • Sara Moore



You read the title, so you know what I'm talking about.  Prayer.  First, just a little insight into my past so you can understand where I'm coming from.... I was raised Catholic by a mom who went to parochial schools in MA and who wasn't a huge fan of the nuns or priests but who had a healthy enough fear of God that we went to church each Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning.  Dad was Catholic as well, but he only had to go to church on holidays, funerals and weddings.   Lucky.........

I never really bought into the whole bible story and have a bumper sticker that says "Eve was Framed" on the back of my Subaru.  I didn't get it for the feminist aspect but because I've always wondered what my CCD teachers would have said had I brought it up for discussion.  It just entertains me and I like it.  That being said, my aversion to religion has been slowly flaking away and exposing a side of me I never knew existed.  Lately I've found myself wanting to tell people "I'll pray for you."  WHAT?  That just doesn't make sense!  I go to say it, catch myself, and laugh in embarassment, then try to rephrase it in a way that sounds much more aligned with my spirtual but not religious attitude.  But nothing seems to fit.  And that's just flat out bizarre to me.

Two weeks ago a friends brother in law fell from a second story balcony while moving to a new house.  He landed on pavement, and when she called me she said that he fell from about 20' up, he had a serious head injury, she didn't know if he was going to make it and she was about to get in the ambulance.  She said she didn't know what to do and that she was so scared.  I told her, "You are ok. Listen to me.  Take a deep breath, know that I am here and that I'll be praying for you."  We hung up and I started praying.  I prayed to God and the angels to surround him.  I could see them arrive, one at his head, one by his side.  I could feel his body and knew areas that were injured.  I also was very aware of how intently I was praying and that we needed a miracle to assist in his recovery.  That's when I called in back up.  My friend Danette is the one who knows how to pray!  She has faith in God, that he exists, and she's the one who introduced me to the angels.  I told her what had happened and we agreed that that things didn't look good and that we'd touch base in a little bit.  I sent out a few messages to a few friends and encouraged them to send good thoughts their way. 

Right there.  Send good thoughts.  I coudn't even ask them to pray for them, because it just feels so foreign to me!  I talk to "God" all the time.  I talk to the Universe all the time, to the Angels, to whomever will listen.  But to label it as prayer was just so strange.....  After his fall and injuries, he was discharged that afternoon with a concussion, stitches and a battered body.  He is alive and recovering.  Nothing is broken and he should resume work in a week or two.  How did that happen?  I have aboslutely no idea.  But I am a believer in prayer.  I take no credit for his miraculous recovery but I am inspired to pray more for others.  I'm sure there's a lesson in this for everyone that was affected by the accident, and the power of prayer was mine. 

I am hoping that soon enough I'll be able to say that I'll pray for someone without cringing inside and wishing there was a word that sums up "I'll ask for all the higher powers to come to your aid and give you what you need right now."  But I guess that's sort of prayer, isnt' it? I am grateful that I believe in something bigger than me and that they reported to duty that day when my friends needed them.  Maybe Eve was framed.  Maybe she was just hungry and wanted a snack.  I have no idea.  I think I'll keep the bumper sticker on just a little longer, but it's not as funny to me as it was years ago when I first got it.


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