I remember being five or six years old, laying on the couch in front of the Christmas Tree, and suffering from a terrible headache, probably a migraine since I was later diagnosed with such headaches during the nineties. I remember being paralyzed with pain.
Back then parents didn’t give their kids Tylenol or Advil, and I don’t remember my mother giving me anything.
As I laid in front of the Christmas Tree, I began to pray. Well, actually I was begging God to kill me. That’s how I remember it, begging God to end my suffering. Within moments of sending my pleadings, the headache vanished, just disappeared and didn’t return anytime soon.
That’s my first, but definitely not my last memory of prayer. These days, I rarely pray for myself.
April 7, 2020