If I don't pray for you, I allow you only the struggles and fears I can see, and I see a simple life. Then I am jealous. This happens on the T all the time. Smushed against strangers during the 8AM rush to work, I glance to my left and see you firing through emails. Those are work emails,I think. Your tasks are all lined up neatly in front of you and you knock them down ably like bowling pins. I, on the other other hand . . .

I watch you closely, but at several inches from my own head, you are impossibly far from me. As long as you are you and not me and I can't feel your anxieties and joys as my own, you might be the farthest blank wall against which my own fears look stark and my concerns echo forever.






























I'm not able to say all of what prayer is or does or what I even want it to be, but I know when I pray for you, when I hold your life in my thoughts, that distance melts. When I speak to the one who I believe loves you more than is possible, who authored you, I begin knowing the you that author loves, and I can assume nothing blank about you, there's no room or need for jealousy, and I can't think you are simple. I think it is a small start to understanding prayer. I think prayer is a small start to understanding you. I'll need to know your joys and fears more closely once I've begun holding you in my thoughts.