So I stand here panting from the effort of figuring out what to say, silent in another hour of need.
I want to pray is,"God, please don't let me lose my job in the layoff
the day before I talk to the surgeon. God, I know I complain about the
arm and how much simpler things would have been if something was just
ripped/broken/torn and repairable, but I think maybe I take that back in this case.
God, please don't let me need surgery. Please don't let this be torn or
worn away or dented. Please don't let this be arthritis." So many
things I am asking for.
"What I want is for this to go
away quickly because the magic cure to this one thing--God, please, just
this one damn thing--exists, and I can afford it, and I'm not allergic
to it, and it won't make things worse, and my inability to heal quickly
due to exhaustion won't matter, and then this will be over, and I can go
back to concentrating on the pain in my arm and my jaw and my foot and my wrist
and my shoulder and my knees. Please, Lord, aren't those things
There are so many people who have it worse,
and I feel like a jerk for praying for me instead of them. "What
should I be saying, God? Please tell me." These are some of the things
I consider saying.
Instead I stand silent on the official prayer channel.
What if I
once again pray for the wrong thing? (And then get what I pray for?)
But what if I just need to pray one more time for the answer to be yes?
Is it sinful for me to wonder if it's like that parable about the old
woman getting justice because she kept at that corrupt judge, or was
that the point of the parable "always pray and never give up." But this
is a young woman and a righteous God, and how do I know if what I ask
for is justice or just selfishness? And maybe I'm supposed to just be
whimpering help, but it feels like a cop-out, like laziness, like
weakness, like failing.
"Lord, teach us to pray," one of His disciples said. Oh, please, God, please. Amen.