On Praying

(Preface: I have a bad attitude about people who force their religious beliefs upon me. I have a bad attitude about their rudeness, righteousness, and arrogance, not their religion. I have my beliefs that are just as firmly rooted and just as true to me as anyone else’s are to them. I take issue with the assumption that they are “right” and whatever I believe is either the same as them or “wrong.” My religion is deeply personal and is probably not the same as yours.)

Basically. Praying. I don’t get it. Hear me out.

If I get what I want, then Jesus, or some derivative of a god-like creature governing the Universe, is good and loves me. If not, it is because the Almighty Masterful Force wants to teach me a lesson.

If the Great Master Of All There Is And Ever Was already knows what is “in my heart,” then doesn’t He already hear my cries, my pleas, my desperation in every time I yelp or cry or say (uncontrollably, aloud), “Jesus Christ, my fucking leg…“? Do I really need a holy hotline?

Oh, right blasphemy. It’s bad. My bad. Sorry.

I admit it. I am very sarcastic about praying. Specifically, I find the notion of praying for something I want ridiculous. It seems all too reminiscent of Christmas, 1983 when I really, really, really wanted Santa Claus to bring me a Cabbage Patch Kid. I wanted her with all of my heart. I felt like I would die if I didn’t have her. And now, is wanting my shaking leg to stop, wanting the pain to stop, wanting to work again, wanting to go out with friends for a beer or coffee or milkshakes, wanting my suffering to end, is any of it any different than that Cabbage Patch Kid? It’s all just stuff that I want, and want with great desperation.

God isn’t Santa Claus.

(Although, I know some people who would argue that the ideas are one and the same. Santa was an invention to reign power over children to force good behavior, and some people theorize that the notion of gods and God reign power over and placate The People to maintain order of the masses. This is a topic for debate on someone else’s blog…)

Anyway. Everyone struggles. Everyone suffers. Welcome to what it’s like to be a human being on the planet Earth. CRPS is the very worst kind of bullshit fuckery, definitely, for sure. But, when I stop to think about it, truly, in the grand scheme of my life, all of these endless days of endless suffering make me so incredibly grateful for all of the very, very good days I’ve had in my life. I would be petulant and childish if I felt anything but gratitude for the opportunities that I’ve had. I won’t cry about the unfairness of my life or question, much less place blame upon, some unprovable being. As bad as this is, it could be worse. I know it could be much, much worse. Beneath my hatred of every second of this, lies gratitude. Sometimes you don’t deserve what you get, other times you get what you don’t deserve (and how cruel to believe in an idea of some puppet master tallying up the score…).

And then there are people like the woman who wanted to “lay hands” on me last Tuesday. She said she has “powerful prayers.” Um, what? So, like Jesus listens to her more than other people? Does Jesus like her better than other people? No. Jesus loves all the little children. I am exceptionally put off by someone who wants to use me to make a big public prayer production. Especially if that someone considers herself to be some kind of super-healing-ultra-Christian. Jesus supposedly spoke out against that kind of behavior, so…

(My attitude isn’t just toward “Christians;” I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I don’t discriminate. I’ve turned down Reiki “experts” for similar reasons. Pretty much, I don’t want to be physically touched by strangers, I don’t want to call any more attention to myself or to my leg than it already commands, and I will not pander to the whims of someone who, despite knowing nothing of me or my disease, thinks they hold the secret resolution to all of my troubles.)

The truth is that I am in a helpless situation. People feel powerless and perhaps feel like prayer is the only possible thing that they can do to help. I understand. It’s an act of kindness. I appreciate it.

So, if you feel like praying for me will make you feel like you are helping, by all means, do it. You may pray privately and quietly for me to any religious/spiritual force you believe in. And if you happen to pray to a Santa-like god who grants wishes, I will tell you what I want or what think I need in my life (but please don’t ask me to sit on your lap).

I really don’t need any further prayers for my leg.

(Jesus knows about my leg. If he didn’t oversee my accident, and every bit of the subsequent aftermath, he has received emails, direct messages, and prayers from every sect and denomination of Christianity. Allah also knows about my leg– It’s true. I have several Muslim friends, and I befriended a very sweet Egyptian couple on a plane last year– Jews pray for me. I’ve had rocks stacked and crystals rubbed for me. I’ve thought about pure white healing light. Someone even supposedly cleansed my aura. I am now quite confident that every supposed governing energy force in the Universe, every god, and God know about my leg.)

What I need are good, trustworthy people to stay permanently in my life, providing deep emotional support, light-hearted laughter, and an occasional hug. I need resolution with respect to certain legal situations that I’m not currently allowed to talk about, and if those resolutions could be in my favor, that would be very helpful. Those are my two wishes, I’ll donate the third wish to you.

Thank you.

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