I’m not what you would call a “prayerful” type of guy. Even at 30,000 feet, when the air gets rough, I never invoke the “God” word, settling instead for promising myself that if I ever get back to terra firma, I will never fly again, which I promptly forget days or even hours later. It’s not that I’m a non-believer in prayer’s ultimate destination, but more of a cynical take on why the Lord would hand out party favors to everyone that asked, or to those that asked most intently.
I do remember praying nightly as a child, though, which might indicate that my mom and dad were better parents than I have given them credit for. I recited the Lord’s Prayer, then followed it up with the standard “God blesses” – in my case “God bless Mommie, Daddie, Chip, Lyn, Mamie, Budgie, Brenda, Stinky and everyone in the whole world.” Stinky was my brother’s cat, so named because she used the house as her personal litter box in the days before my parents could buy one at the local “five and dime.” Brenda was the neighbor’s bulldog but warranted a mention ahead of our own Stinky because – well – she didn’t smell. Funny how we prioritize our prayerful moments. Continue Reading »