My Prayers

Yesterday, I sat through one of the most beautiful funeral masses ever. Five caring priests on the altar. My dear friends playing and singing.

But I didn't pray. And I couldn't sing.

I tried again last night without success. And this morning, I still have that empty feeling, like I will never pray, sing or be truly happy ever again. Clay tells me I will. And I believe him, I think.

But I thought I should start on my thankfulness list, for when God and I are on speaking terms again:


Angie's handmade rosaries, a gift from my biggest fan.


Holly and Justin's talents.

Karma.


Jim Gerth's words of comfort. One of the things I wanted most this week was my mom and dad. Jim filled that achy void a little for me.


Timing.

Kindergartener's hugs. Man, did I miss them this week. I think they were all supposed to be silently going back to the classroom when I saw them, and I hope they didn't get into trouble for jumping out of line.


The Coons Women and their compatriot, Will.


Mr. Prout, who told me I would never withstand the competition at music school at IU, which convinced me to go to Purdue. Perhaps if I had gone to IU, I would have met a man like Clay and friends like the Crew, but I doubt it.


Friends who surprise you by their actions. People you didn't realize were your friends.


Miko.


Peace.