The Fragility

I have always believed in the power of prayer. Despite vibrant memories, both good and bad, of early childhood in Hells Kitchen, I cannot accurately determine when I first learned to ask my Maker for help and give thanks.

Possibly it was in earliest childhood when Dad and I knelt in prayer nightly before I fell asleep, or maybe several years later in St. Paul the Apostle School where I shared a crowded classroom with 49 other youngsters.

However, long after those early years and today when I now walk the far different road of old age, once again I needed and prayed for God’s help.

Among the invisible and brutal scars deposited by Covid in my body were those I once believed to be the recurrence of allergies. Despite many visits to various medical authorities, the source was never determined. I soon began to live in fear of food, as well as other imagined culprits.

Consequently three weeks ago, abandoning my dubious reliance on the internet and google, I resorted to petitioning my Maker for an answer to the source of my chronic and seemingly unending health issues.

The answer and solution to my health status came quickly,

However the reply was far more sinister than anticipated and instantly reminded me of St. Teresa’s oft quoted words about Answered Prayers.

Yet the unexpected answer to my prayer also reinforced my gratitude for the resurgence of a firm belief in the words, “Ask and you shall receive,”

As well as the unanticipated warning included about the fragility of God’s gift of life.