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I’ve never been sure that prayer actually does anything but for some reason I keep praying, mostly for my own sanity. I think prayer is more for my benefit than anything– I throw a pleading prayer up to the sky in an exhausted attempt to get whatever is bothering me out of my hands. I can only take the stress, pain, and worry for so long before I have to release it and hope it comes back as a miracle. It usually doesn’t.

Our bodies are such beautiful, intricate, fragile, stupid things. One small incident or accident can alter them completely. One stupid brain aneurysm can render a strong, healthy, wonderful man helpless. One stupid body can suppress my grandfather’s beautiful soul.

I hate brain injuries, dammit I hate them! I can tell he’s in there. Yes my grandfather is there but he can’t get out and it is out of my power to help him. Dammit!

This isn’t supposed to happen to him, to my family. These things happen to other people, to other families. NOT MINE. And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, everything has changed. What will life look like now?

I squint my eyes shut tightly and try to get the image of that hospital room out of my head. I cover my head with my arms and cry, letting all the emotional pain come out in physical expression. And finally, exhausted, I throw a prayer up to the ceiling.

And this is life, as stupid and fragile as the bodies we are bound to. Things may go well for a time but then the bottom falls out and all that was beneath you, holding you up, is gone and you are free falling. You claw at anything that you might be able to grasp with your feeble fingers but everything is out of reach.

And yet, somehow, just before you implode, you manage to land on your feet. Someone or something reaches out and grabs you and you fall into their hands, like drifting upon a hammock on the beach. And you can’t tell if it’s sound of the waves or the sound of your own tears that lulls you to sleep saying, “All will be well. Rest and you will see that all will be well.”