Healing Prayer

 

“What happened to you?” Dave is ambling down his front walk waving at me and Ian in front of his house here on 32^nd St. Cici pops her head up. She’s been working in the garden hidden behind gigantic pink floral monstrosities that had taken over the yard. She gives us a toothy grin, wiping the dirt on her soiled apron.

“I broke my wrist,” I answer, glancing down at my heavily bandaged arm resting in my impromptu sling of a turquoise blue scarf.

Dave shakes his head serious, “I’m so sorry to hear this. How did you do it?”

“I was just walking past my neighbor’s garden and there was a piece of driftwood that was hidden underneath some overgrown plants on the sidewalk and I tripped over it and fell hard and broke my wrist.”

“I understand. We’ve been there.” Dave doesn’t elaborate though I wonder what he’s broken and why. Maybe it’s tied to his 40 years of being a smoking dumbass; maybe he was walking down the sidewalk smoking up a storm not paying attention to where he was going and he fell over on a trip hazard in the sidewalk. After all, there are so many! Earlier this week, another neighbor had stopped me and asked what had happened and then shaking his head said, “Walking is so dangerous! There are so many places to trip!”  I had told him, “Yes! Be careful! You don’t want to break your wrist!”

            Now Cici comes toward us, her grin wider, revealing yellow and worn cracked teeth. “I was over here in the garden being a monkey!” she exclaimed.  “I just get down on my hands and knees and then I realize that rooting around like a monkey on my hands and knees really hurts my knees!” She performed a toothy grimace for us to demonstrate the knee pain.

“Yes, I agree you have to be careful with your knees; they can be really hard to heal,” I say.  “My mom tore her meniscus a few years ago and she was laid up and in a wheelchair with had a lot of pain.”

Dave shook his head, “Yes we need to be aware of our bodies and what can happen if we’re not… hold on just a minute, Carol, I’ll be right back.”

Ian and I stand in the broiling sun. I can tell he wants to leave but I don’t want to be rude. Plus of course I’m curious. What does Dave have for me? Cici continues to grin at us until a fluffy cat comes trotting out and does a rollover in front of us. She giggles.  “Oh, would you look at her? That’s Lily. She wants to be friends.”

Ian bends down, holding his finger out, always wanting to be friends with every kitty that he sees. “Hi Lily.  Do you want to be friends?” She does a coy rollover just out of his reach and we all laugh.

Dave has returned with a small pink book in his hand. “I just want to read something for you, Carol. In addition to being your neighbor, I’m also a preacher down at St Luke’s. I think I told you that but I have something here that I think will help you.”  He opens up the small pink book and takes a breath. “Let us bow our heads in prayer.” Cici follows the command. Ian and I glance at each other and shrug, bowing our heads in slight compliance. Dave starts to read something about the body as a temple and taking doctor’s advice when it is good advice and healing quickly and the Lord will help us with all of this if we only give ourselves over to Him….

Whenever I hear this idea of giving over myself to the Lord, some one that I don’t even believe in, mostly because I’ve never seen any evidence of him but also just because I wasn’t raised this way, I have resistance to this command. The last couple of nights I’ve been watching a show on Netflix called America’s Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Many of the cheerleaders are extremely religious and always talk about how they just give their lives over to Jesus and if He deigns to give them a spot on that cheerleading squad then so be it and if He doesn’t, well then it is in His hands. They will accept His will.  I suppose I just feel like this is a cop out to our own personal responsibility; that we have our own will and our own choices that we make in our everyday lives and in the longer scheme of things. But today when I listen to Dave and how earnest he is with this prayer, I can’t help but be moved by his genuine caring over my broken wrist. He really does seem to want to help me and since this prayer and God are his way of helping, I will go with it.

He finishes the prayer, “Amen,” he murmurs.

“Amen,” we all repeat.

“Thank you for that, Dave,” I say. At this moment, I really mean it. It is sweet of him to come out and read me a healing prayer. It can’t hurt, right? And who knows, it might help!

“Oh, you’re very welcome, Carol. I know how hard it is and I hope that this helps. You take care of yourself now, okay?”

“I will,” I say.  Ian and I start to walk away. Cici is back in the garden working away in her monkey mode while Dave ambles back into the house, the Little Pink book clutched in his large calloused palm.