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.

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