Prayer outside of schools

I was driving home this evening, in the midst of a sweeping left and I looked over to the right, on the wall was a sign that read, "have you prayed today."

Almost immediately I pulled over. I found a parking space and turned off the engine. There was a silence in the car and I put my hands together.

I can probably count on one hand the number of times I have actually prayed in my life time. When people think about me, one of the last things they generally remark on is how often they see me pray. I probably do not have a prayers chance in prayerland to get admitted to praying university. I don't pray a lot.

There I was, a bright spring sun shining through the sunroof. The car starting to heat up. My hands together, really a moment of truth if ever there was one. If you can not be completely honest in that moment of prayer, when can you be? If you are speaking directly to god, you had best have something important to say.

I remember another time I prayed. I bet this is common. A condom broke and I was driving home and every possible thought that could pop into my brain worked its way around inside my head. Lucky for all of us the big floods of 2019 ended all those condom worries. Right? Am I right?

Sitting in my hot car I focused at first on my hands, together in front of me. I looked up at the sunroof, through it, to the skies. Now would be a good time to say something, at least that's what I was thinking.

I think it is painfully obvious to anyone who reads this blog that I have been seriously taking dance lessons the last few months and if you have really been paying attention, especially to the comments, you would know that I have plateaued. I thought for an instant that I should pray that my dancing improves to the point that I might begin to feel comfortable auditioning for off broadway plays again.

Then again I could pray for my dog, who was hit by a car this weekend. At least that's what I was told when I walked into the living room on Saturday afternoon only to find her head laying sideways off the couch, one leg tethered to a cushion, another, dangling off the other side, blowing in the wind. I asked my maid Hector what had happened and he said, "she get hit by car."

That seems prayer worthy, although later that day she was up and running and nimble enough to twist and contort and lick herself for a good 7 minutes, not that I was timing, I was watching the final 39 seconds of an NBA playoff game and while that was going on, the dog was inspecting her nether region with a vigorous tonging.

Then it dawned on me. The only time I have taken the time to seriously pray was when I was in the midst of something terrible. Since my life is as simple as a cow right about now, I decided to pray for something bigger than myself. I wanted to focus my prayer on something beyond my hum drum boring little existence. I knew then that the only way to honestly make a difference is to take this rare prayer opportunity and use these valuable seconds to make a point that is far and above my simple drama. So I did.