It’s interesting how we feel the passing of time. In a week that seemed pretty long, I found no time to pray. It wasn’t until I was sitting in a chair, alone in my daughter’s hospital room waiting for her return, that I found myself alone and feeling that utter hopelessness that makes one wish that they were a child again. I wanted someone other than me to make the difficult decisions. I wanted a crystal ball filled with the outcomes of every possible choice, a heads up and a clear picture of what would happen if…It sucks to be the adult. I wanted to be the child again, forced to go on with the plans of the others, and somehow oblivious to the workings of the grown up world. I remember thinking, “I need some help here!” And then I began to pray. I asked for nothing specific really, just some help, guidance, and a chance to breathe. Just a single moment of freedom from THIS. Recently I read that in Buddhism the essence of equanimity is in part defined as “to stand in the middle of this.” I wanted to stand in the middle of this and feel some equanimity. And slowly it came. Not complete, but enough. Enough was all I needed. I disappoint myself when I forget to pray. It’s like forgetting to breathe, and yet I notice I forget to do just that when I am stressed. Prayer and breathe go hand in hand for me. I am slowly learning how to stand, in the middle of this, with some assurance that all is as should be.