This post doesn’t really have anything to do with stroke recovery, except that it’s an excellent exercise in thought organization.
Lately, when I pray, I catch myself saying, “Oh, God, please look after that idiot, “So-and-so”. Does the name-calling diminish the validity of the sentiment? I don’t know. Not on my end, it doesn’t. Idiots by definition require exponentially more attention from God than, um….saints and other thinking people.
I guess it’s an admission that I am asking a lot and I know it.
As if God needs a heads-up.
Prayer, for me is a metronomic activity. Sort of like breathing, but with more frequent time-outs. So far, breathing remains a full time deal.
Prayer pops out in sputters and sighs, randomly throughout my days.
And sudden concerns, like when the hospital helicopter flies over the garden, I ask for tranquility and compassion for the crew; bravery and healing for the patient and family. I know the anguish of a loved one being whisked into a chopper. Scary. Scary as hell.
On everyday occasions when people around me do careless, selfish things. I ask God to be with them and teach them about love. These occasions sometimes populate my day like gnats on a steamy summer day.
On those days of busy petitioning, I find it helpful to consider Mark Twain’s quote:
“Man was made at the end of the week’s work,
when God was tired.”
I try to balance my pleas with thanksgivings:
Thanks for that breath of crisp autumn air.
Thanks for my ultra-incredible family.
Thanks for that little green sprout.
Thanks for that soulful voice.