Prayer is part of my routine. Not as in light the candles, bow my head, and block-out-the-world focus. But as the inner thrum while I am sewing, or driving, or gazing out the window.
I pray for specific people, sometimes letting them know as much. On occasion they ask me to, which makes it simpler. My well wishes twirl around improved health, and steadiness amidst rocky circumstances. I even keep a list of them, to add heft to their personhood in my heart. And just in case God has time to look over my shoulder.
The other day a friend mentioned an answered prayer. Or unanswered, depending on how you hold it. He had lost his keys, and really needed to find them. So he prayed. Then he went back to hunting, with the added expectation of having so recently asked for help. But the keys stayed hidden.
He felt cornered into calling his brother to ask a large favor. Would he be willing to drive a hundred miles to bring him a spare set? It turned out that he was.
What emerged when they got together was just shy of a miracle. Old conflicts were softened in the mix of generosity and humility.
Do you think it is possible that an angel was sent down the spiral staircase to tuck those keys out of sight in order to unlock a different door?
