Prayer: what does it do? what does it change? does it matter if we pray or what we pray if God is going to do what He's going to do anyway? why do some prayers get answered but others don't?

Though I have grown up following God, loving Him, and having faith in Him, these questions always creep up in the back of my mind. And I always keep praying, trusting that something is happening, even if I don't always know what. Yet this week I prayed in a new way.

I do know that prayer is about deepening our relationship with our Creator and Father, not just about a laundry list of wishes we want fulfilled. So even when I pray for things, I obviously say to God that I will accept that He knows best, even if it's against my wishes. That's even how Jesus prayed the night before He was crucified. So that's what I do.

But I've often felt that I pray weakly. Yes, I have faith that God can do anything. But I know He sometimes chooses not to, for reasons I don't know. So sometimes I give a mumbling "your will be done" without much hope. I feel like I'm trying to obey that way. Yet then when I look at some dear friends who pray with fervor, stating how powerful God is, fully asking Him to do the miraculous. Maybe I've felt that I don't have the right to ask such of Him? I don't know.

Tuesday night changed that. One of the most fervent pray-ers I know—the most confident in God's might and miraculous nature, who freely asks God and just KNOWS He will answer—was told by doctors that she might not live through the night. And I just couldn't accept that.

So God and I had a conversation. At first I put Him off. I got home from the hospital and busied myself, distracting my mind from the sadness I felt. But then I went to my room and had it out with God. I felt like Moses, who "reminded" God of all His attributes, told God that if He was to move and take action that it would show everyone all of His glory and power.

I'd always wondered about that whole relationship. God knew all of this; why did Moses say such? But I remember Steve preaching about this text—that it was a process God wanted Moses to experience. God remained the same, but He wanted to get to this point in their relationship, wanted Moses to see from a new perspective.

The thing is, the whole time I prayed these similar things, God knew what was on my mind. And I always trust that He knows what I really want and feel. But this time I verbalized it. I laid it all out in no uncertain terms. I had faith in His power and I begged Him to use it. "We all need Kathy. All of us need her. It's not time yet." I still was sad, not sure what God would choose to do. I could think of times when people still died though many prayed. Then He reminded me of all the other times when people lived—my grandmother lived through two major surgeries last year, though we thought death was imminent; my brother lived though he was born three months early; Kaelyn lived when she came early too; and on and on. So I trusted in His power once again.

And in the morning, hope rose anew. Kathy still lived and began to get stronger. Each day this week, she is doing something more, improving and improving. Doctors are astounded.

But, like Kathy knew all along, we understand who is in control.

Today Kaelyn and I were picking up Steve's SUV from getting some things fixed on it. We graciously got a ride to the west side of town. Afterward, we pulled into UDF (that's a gas station, convenience store, and ice cream shop combo, for those of you non-Cincinnatians) so I could . . . well, to be honest, so I could use the ladies' room. (We're going full disclosure here.)

I park right outside the door (scored a good spot on a rainy day) and drag Kaelyn inside. Then I have to wait for the restroom key. La di da . . . waiting . . . waiting.

When suddenly I hear a familiar sound: the sound of Steve's car alarm going off!

I drag Kaelyn back to the door and see a man sitting in the drivers' seat, door propped open, digging into the change that's in our console.

My heart is pounding, hands shaking as I yell, "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Oh, is this your car?" he asks.
"Get out!" I say firmly. (Firmly? That's putting it lightly.)
"I'm sorry. Here's your dime," he says while handing me back the money he just snatched from my car.

At this point, I'm surprised that I didn't wet my pants, but I still had to go. So I stopped the alarm, slammed the door, and marched Kaelyn back into the store. As I'm doing this, the man says, "I'm sorry. I got the wrong car. This is mine." And he goes two parking spaces over to get into a blue SUV (which looks COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, even the type of blue doesn't match ours) and starts scrounging around for change again.

At first I didn't believe him. How could he get into our vehicle and think it was his? I think he's just saying that to steal our change. (I've had many a story told to me in my neighborhood. I'm not too trusting.) But then his significant other/wife/girlfriend pokes her head out the door and berates the guy for being an idiot who got into the wrong car. Now I'm wondering if he's out of it, on a substance, or what.

As we pass him again in the store, he apologizes again, and I think I finally believe him. Hands still shaking, I drag Kaelyn back out to the car, as Kaelyn keeps asking, "Why did that man think our car was his?" I have no idea, I want to say.

The deal is, Steve's driver side door has issues sometimes if you don't close it right. (And I didn't because I was just running in and out.) The SUV was locked, but the drivers' side door still could get open. And because it's locked, opening the door still activates the alarm. In this case, good thing!

I promptly consoled my nerves with ice cream . . . but NOT from UDF! We got out of there and settled on Graeters instead. No drama there!

Sometimes the mental effort required to take both the mundane and the exciting events of life and place it into words feels taxing. Other times, I have to sit and craft something intelligent or else I worry about my own senility. If not unleashed, it builds up inside without me realizing it, and I feel mentally bloated! And then that makes me feel tired and useless.

Yet when I allow the dam to break and words to pour forth, I find the sanity and focus I was seeking. It's like I need the reassurance that I still possess some semblance of the skills I thought I had within.