Listening to road noise: Praying helps?


I’m not a religious woman, I’ve never been really.  As a matter of fact I’ve spent much of my life raising a skeptical eyebrow at folks who walk this world quoting scripture and beating bibles, asking the Lord for protection, or money, or what ever blessing they think will fix it, when they themselves never look inwards to see how they steer themselves in the type of debacle that requires such aid.

I do go to church though, not often, or more rather not as often as I would like, due to a collection of circumstances over which I have no control. But I go, and when I do it’s usually to fulfill a yearning for the fellowship of folks joined to a single purpose, one that is good or at least peaceful. I go for the words of practical advice my pastors, three now, seem to be so adept at delivering. I haven’t taken communion in over 6 years, I don’t think it would be right to take part in a right belonging to a purpose I’m not sure I can wholeheartedly commit to.

So it would seem strange for someone like me to offer a word of prayer to anyone in need. But I do, I did just a few moments ago, and it suddenly struck me that it’s a thing at odds with me. It’s not that I don’t believe in God, in one form or another. I don’t think anyone could deny the existence of a driving force behind life, one yet un-quantified. As to what it is though I, and by enlarge we, are not sure.

All that being said, I’ve long since subscribed to the idea that it is by our own strength and mental prowess, perhaps given by that force of life, that we survive the worst of times. Those of whose blessing don’t come at the expense or suffering of others that is. So why then pray? Why would I offer it? Why would I hope to receive it?

Because in my mind it represents that kinship, between souls, a simple human empathy that is inextricably comforting to me, and I’m sure to others. Since some of my darkest times, it’s been that support in many cases which has helped to get me through, simply by ousting that feeling of being utterly alone, and in turn I offer that same comfort.

I do say the prayers though, just in case they have the right of it, that there really is a sentient being who measures the depth and importance of our needs and gives aid, unseen and in many cases undetected where it is most needed. Couldn’t hurt right?  Some of our crises really seem to need divine intervention don’t they?

So does it help? Have I ever seen it work? Have I received miracles, or seen them worked in the lives of people around me? No. But I’ve seen strength drawn from reserves of human kindness, seen the power of a warm embrace, a comforting shoulder, sometimes being all that draws one away from the unthinkable end of ones suffering.

So I offer a prayer, so you know that my thoughts are with you, I will offer aid in what little way I can because I know how deeply the slightest act can touch a wounded heart. And hope that somehow somewhere maybe these utterings and acts will stir the flow of universal currents, and bring forth circumstances that stave off the worst life seems to continuously rain down on us.


2 thoughts on “Listening to road noise: Praying helps?

  1. A poignantly beautiful post — one to which I can completely subscribe. I’ve often asked myself why I pray as well since I have all the same questions. There is one Bible verse that moves me to do so. It’s Acts 17:28: “For in him we live and move and have our being.” Whatever this life force is that binds us all together, we live in it, it moves within us and between us, and I whole heartedly believe that prayer is like throwing a rock in that force that in turn sends ripples far and wide and affects the fabric of the world. I hold onto that. Besides which, there’s just something about unburdening our hearts a little that is like a release valve sometimes. Great post.


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