TheBanyanTree: A Life Lived Online

[Jim Miller]

On Tue, Dec 3, 2013 at 11:01 AM, Linda DeMerle <Twigllet at gmail.com> wrote:

>  my views on prayer may differ wildly from some schools which guarantee
> that if one asks God to do something, it is automatically fixed.  If that
> were true, nothing terribly awful would happen to us.


I'd like to ad my story. First, don't throw caring platitudes at me. I
don't want them, nor do I need them. I always know if you really care, or
are simply repeating the mantra you think is appropriate. If I tell someone
that I'm praying for them, I feel responsible for making good on my
commitment. I don't do that often, because I don't want it personally. So
Monique, if I tell you that I'll pray for you; well . . . . . Sorry; you're
gonna get it.

My story. I'm not always proud of the person that I am. That is probably a
guilt complex embedded in my youth. I've tried to exorcise most of those.
It ain't easy. With that said, Linda and I both consider ourselves persons
of Strong Faith. We both grew up in Pentecostal churches; frequently known
as the Holy Rollers. The stories I can tell.  We haven't attended church
regularly in about 20 years. I have since denounced God-Favors-On-Demand. I
referred to it as dialing 1-800-DearGod. We lean to more traditional
doctrines, such as Presbyterian. I think I could be a more devout Catholic
than most of the Catholics I know. But I digress:

In late July 2004, when I was living in the Hospital, waiting for a
transplant; I knelt down one morning for a word with God. I knew that
without a donor heart, I may only live moments to 3-4 weeks at most. I was
at complete peace. I prayed; "God, I can't see the big picture, but I
believe that you have a plan. I believe that my life has purpose, even if I
can't see it. I am submitted completely to your will. Amen." Unknown to me
until weeks later; at almost the exact same time, Linda prayed. Her pray
went something like this; "Dear God, I can't take this any longer. We need
a heart, and we need it now." Two days later, my surgeon walked into my
room and announce, "We have a donor heart." And, as they say, the rest is
history. Go figure.

Jim