Say a Little Prayer for Me

What is prayer? Is it talking to God? Does it allow false hope? Is it meditative chant? Do you have to believe in something to pray, or are you just talking to yourself?

When someone says they will pray for me, I feel squirmy and sweaty. What am I supposed to say? Thank you? No thank you? I'll pray for you also, as well, too? The good news is that those feelings usually last approximately .053 seconds and then I snap into acceptable socialization skills and manage to utter some sort of reply. For those of you who pray on a regular basis - how do you prioritze for whom you will pray? Your mom whose knee is acting up? Your sister whose toddler is acting up? Or the huddled masses? The poor? How do you know that your prayers aren't selfish or superficial? Do you ever really know?

I had pretty serious obsessive compulsive disorder from childhood into my teens. What I'm about to write is something I have never shared with anyone. I was so terrified of not having faith and not believing in God, that I decided I better pray every night just in case it might mean something to someone and save me if I should die and be considered a qualified candidate for Hell. If I forgot to pray before I fell asleep, I would wake up in the middle night in a panic and make myself pray. If I forgot all night and didn't realize it until morning, I told myself I deserved to have a very bad day. And do you want to know the strangest part? I didn't even know who I was supposed to pray to. So I would hold my teddy bear Elmer, put my hands together, and say, "Dear God, or Lord, or Jesus, or whoever You are....." and then I would pray. At the end of my confused faux-conversation with the aforementioned alleged deity, I would swirl my hands around my face and chest - my pretend way of signing the cross. I knew I wasn't Christian but my dad once told me about "spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch" so I modified it for my own purposes. I thought you had to do that in order to end a prayer. Like putting on a stamp on a piece of mail. It just won't get there if you forget that last detail.

I don't remember exactly when I stopped "praying" every night. And I don't know if it had anything to do with losing the hope that I would one day find faith, or if it was because I grew out of my OCD and allowed myself freedom from such strict rituals. These days, I don't pray regularly but if I do, I instinctively begin with "Dear God, or Lord, or Jesus, or whoever You are...."

In 2001, I was stricken with several episodes of kidney stones. Unfortunately, my body doesn't allow me to process stones without a variety of surgical procedures. My local doctor in Detroit didn't show any urgency in scheduling me for surgery, so my dad and step-mom (affectionately known as ChrisMom) encouraged me to travel to Omaha to get it handled. The night after my surgery, I had developed some complications and needed another procedure in order to move things along. It was humiliating and painful, not to mention terrifying. The only person I allowed in the room was ChrisMom. What happened next is one of the most remarkable moments of my life.

I lay in the stark hospital bed, freezing, vulnerable, and being attacked by my own body as the doctors and nurses buzzed around my room planning their course of action. I turned my head to my left and saw my ChrisMom's loving eyes. I whispered, "I'm scared." She wiped the tears from my cheek, brushed the hair off my forehead, and asked me if she could pray for me. My lips trembling too hard to speak, I nodded yes. She held my hand and recited the Hail Mary. Her words soothed me, letting me envision a spirit wrapping its arms around me, getting me through the horrifying experience. Thanks to my ChrisMom and her unwavering faith, I was able to focus on her and let the poking, prodding, and pain fade to distraction.

Was that God? Or the Lord? Or Jesus? Whoever or whatever it was, in that moment, I believed.

I'll be seeing you.....