A Dirty Old Man At Prayer

Thursday as Ginny left for work, she erected our hurricane warning flags to mark the first day of the official 2006 hurricane season. We fly these flags to remind the neighborhood to finish preparations.

As is my habit, I woke at a reasonable 4 a.m. — not 12:20 as I did yesterday!

I read Google News and fiddled with blogs and such to start my day. I’m reluctant to say this, but I also prayed a little.

The reason I’m reluctant to mention prayer is that Jesus said our prayers should be a secret thing between us and God. They are not for public consumption. But I’ll let you in on the secret to this extent:

I pray that the hurricanes will hit somebody else instead of me.

See why Jesus said to keep our mouths shut about such things?

In my November 7^th blog archives for last year, I kick this odd idea of Christ’s around a bit.

Two things got me to thinking about prayer today:

First, this afternoon T.T. called asking me about Drive By Prayers.

In a church I used to attend, a bunch of us would load up in a van on Friday nights and drive slowly through the neighborhood pausing to pray about various things we saw. For instance when domestic violence spilled into the street, we’d pray for that couple; when a prostitute lingered on the corner, we’d pray for her; when we saw a drug deal going down, we’d pray. We’d pray for homeless guys on the street, for cops, for drunks, whatever..

Please don’t get the idea that pious thoughts were all we expended. That church group also sponsored anger management classes, AA group, a soup kitchen, drug counseling, tutoring, family services, AIDS support, etc. to help in a hands-on manner in the things we prayed about.

Here’s a funny aside:

At that church the prayer group put out wooden boxes where folks could place written anonymous prayer requests. On Fridays we’d meet, open the boxes and pray for the specific things people submitted.

One evening I drew a slip from a lady named Mary who wanted to have another baby. I prayed long and loud for Mary to get pregnant.

When it came the next guy’s turn to pray, he started, “Lord, if it was my wife Mary who put that slip in the box, please disregard everything Cowart just prayed for!”

Anyhow, the second thing to make me think of prayer yesterday was that my eldest daughter took me to lunch.

Remember how last week I sent out all that stuff to the mission?

Well, over the weekend another six or eight bags of stuff gravitated to our foyer for the mission and I called Jennifer to deliver it for me since I didn’t have the car.

We enjoyed a nice lunch at one of the places Ginny and I often go. Back six or eight weeks ago a young lady there, one of the waitresses, had asked for our prayers about a life-threatening surgery she faced.

Well, as Jennifer settled the bill and I started out the door, a voice shouted, “John! John!”

I turned and this beautiful, well-endowed young woman threw herself into my arms hugging me and pressing against me and crying on my shoulder and thanking me for my prayers.

We stood there entwined in the doorway, half in and half out with all the folks in the restaurant watching.

Now, please understand that the young woman acted in sheer, innocent, youthful exuberance, relief and spontaneous joy.

But also rember that I am a certified, card-carrying dirty old man.

So, as she praised God for her successful surgery and clung to my chest continually hugging me, I, being a devout, pious, spiritual Christian gentleman, entertained one thought:

“Wow, is she really stacked”!

Now my daughter, who had never seen this woman before in her life, stood watching from maybe ten feet away. She of course knew nothing of the background of the situation. She looked embarrassed and puzzled about why this voluptuous young woman would be hugging her father right out there in public

She was so embarrassed in fact that she couldn’t say a word. She coped by ignoring the scene and didn’t mention it as we got in here car and drove away.

She wanted to ask me what that was all about so bad she could taste it.

I remained silent.

I saw no need to offer an explanation.

The subject of prayer should stay a secret.

It’s good to keep your kids off balance. Keep ‘em guessing.

Besides, I have my reputation to maintain.