“I was raised to believe that people who prayed were ignorant. … My parents worshipped at the church of The New York Times, and we bowed down before our antique hi-fi cabinet, which held the Ark of the Covenant – Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk albums. So, to recap, my parents, who were too hip and intellectual to pray, worshipped mostly mentally ill junkies. Our best family friends drank and one-upped one another trashing common enemies, like Richard Nixon and Christians. I think it is safe to say that not one single family member or close family friend prayed, except for my paternal grandfather, who had been a Christian missionary and who loved his grandkids in a way he hadn’t been able to love his kids. … I remember sitting in his lap, and the smell of his pipe. I was six when he was erased. I know beyond a shadow of doubt, with no proof, that my grandfather prayed for all of us kids. As it turns out, if one person is praying for you, buckle up. Things can happen.” From the wonderful Anne Lamott, Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers.
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