Start The Prayer

I wandered around the hospital, looking for the chapel. I went in. Mind you - I haven’t been in a mass in a long time. I could hear God saying, “It’s time.” I can’t shake this image of Him tapping at his watch, lightly, encouraging me.

I found the chapel. I stayed outside for a few minutes. I went in. It was different. There was no crucifix—it was a wooden wall with faces. I’ll give the hospital credit—it must be hard to accommodate every religion. The perimeter was lined with long pews. In the center space, there were chairs spaced six feet apart. I went to the front and knelt down at the prayer stand. Even though I know not every prayer is answered, I know that comfort and healing come with prayer.

On the way out, I noticed a stand with a three-ring binder - a prayer petition book. I looked and saw one short, generic line written in. Otherwise, it was totally blank. No prayers. Empty. I asked myself, “Where is all the prayer? Have we stopped praying completely?!”

I felt a nudge from above - “Be the change.” “Start the prayer.”

So I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I filled up half a page.

Not just for why I was there, but for every patient and their families and friends; for anyone coming in to seek peace. I still believe that regardless of religion or stance, when we’re praying, the field is leveled in some regard.

As I walked out of the chapel, I felt a pull to go back in. I walked up to the front and genuflected and crossed myself. I felt like I had left an event without paying my respects - and needed to go back in to say goodbye, to honor them.

In that moment, I felt God. I don’t know if my prayers will be answered - but - in that moment, I had peace.