I am aware of so many people who are really, really hurting this Thanksgiving: the family of a young mom of 4 – including a 3 week old son – who died of a massive stroke last week; a couple whose unborn baby is struggling; Dad, who is approaching his first holiday season without his wife of over 50 years. We could all add ourselves and countless others to the list.
All of our tragedies invite prayer. And I have a deep and abiding sense that prayer makes a difference. But I struggle with what authentic prayer is for me. I understand the prayer that manifests itself as enthusiastic applause when a plane lands safely after a rough flight. I know the tender prayer that is kissing a child goodnight. Gratitude seems to lend itself easily to prayer.
But when people request prayer for specific outcomes – be those requests for health or comfort or a car that will start – I find myself sadly confused.
Even as a child, I had trouble with the idea of praying for a cure, or praying for a miracle. I could not then – and I cannot still – get my head around a God who is persuaded by human pleas to relieve suffering or postpone death in one family while allowing other families to endure unending pain and loss. God, it seems to me, does not play favorites.
What I can get my head around is that we are all part of whatever God is. Our life and God’s being are intimately related. We never need to invite God’s presence; regardless of our circumstance, God is with us.
Prayer, for me, then, is being mindful of that connection. Prayer is holding an intention for a person in the same corner of my heart where God already is and finding gratitude for the bond that we share. Prayer is a silent surrender to the sure belief that regardless of the individual circumstances of our lives, we are all loved equally and eternally.
And in that spirit, to whoever is reading this, I offer a prayer of gratitude and a wish for a warm and peaceful Thanksgiving.
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