I went for a swim this afternoon and I prayed to God.
I prayed for my peep, Becky Jo.
Damn you, cancer, damn you.
I prayed as my face submerged in the water.
God, wrap Becky Jo in your healing arms.
Give her comfort and peace.
Give her courage and determination.
Help her fight the fight.
I’ll swim as long as you listen.
Are you listening God?
A former pastor encouraged to “pray boldly”.
So I yelled at Him very boldly.
My worries had turned to anger.
Why are you doing this?
She’s a good kid with a kind heart.
And He filled my mouth with a salty wetness.
OK, I’ll quit yelling.
Then I felt like crying.
That doesn’t work well while swimming.
Damn you, cancer.
I need to swim a few more laps.
I’m sorry, God, that I whine about stupid stuff.
I’m sorry that I thought being without sun and warmth was the worst thing ever.
I’m sorry that I don’t appreciate the blessings you bestow.
As I swim this final lap, can you do me a favor?
No, not please.
I must pray to you boldly.
God, heal my friend Becky Jo.
Give her doctors the knowledge and skill to treat her wisely.
Remove the cancer from her body.
Listen to the prayers of everyone who love her.
Give Becky Jo the gift of life.
If you are reading this, I ask that you say a prayer for Becky Jo. If you’re not one who prays, think subliminal healing thoughts for her. No matter if you know her or not, I’m trying to summon a little help.
Power in numbers…I figure the louder we are…