Prayer
A bunch of people are praying for dad
since his heart attack and the surgery.
And it's not that I think he would mind
so much. He's a grateful person and
he understands that praying is how
a lot of people interact with the world,
so I'm sure he's not mad about it or
confused by it, and maybe I don't even
know. I mean it seems like he wouldn't
put much stock in the sentiment, being
a rationalist and scientifically-minded.
It seems like their prayers might be met
with the same head tilt and forced smile
that he reserves for right-wing claims
and pop culture references, like he
gives it the courtesy of space, but not
too much space, in the conversation.
And I really can't blame him because
the last people who said they were praying
for me also said that they had lost
all confidence in my good judgement,
and to pray for me was, it seemed,
a way to suggest that God could be made
to tilt the scales, to place a filter on life,
to correct what we find personally distasteful.
And really, wouldn't that be the best?
Wouldn't you love to live a life in which
everyone could command the power
of the almighty to save a life
or to put out a fire or to feed the hungry
or to keep drag queens from reading to kids?
But here's the thing. I bet dad gets it.
Heart attacks and surgeries are hard business.
We cast the spells we need to cast.
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