I pray it won’t take me this long to pray again

Just outside the Fredericksburg Cemetery.

Hayden and I talked fantasy football while I fixed her scrambled eggs Sunday morning.

I know, you’re not supposed to talk fantasy football. Maybe it’s okay with the people you play with? Anyway, Marcus Mariota, you see. He’s projected for mad points this week, but is questionable for the game Monday. Should I stick with him?

I prayed about it last night I told Hayden.

I actually hadn’t. On two other occasions, I’ve prayed for trivial things (that didn’t feel trivial in the moment) only to see them granted. I tried to remember the last time I did actually pray. It might have been in acid-washed jeans.

Do you ever pray about anything other than football? Hayden asked.

I hadn’t even prayed about football when the Denver Broncos were in their past two Super Bowls. It’s harder at this stage of life to know who to pray to, or what to call it, but I realize that maybe sitting and waiting for the universe to make up it’s mind …

Madison and Camdyn destroying a funnel cake at Festival in the Park a few years ago. (I got some of it.)

Time to catch up

Well, maybe that’s the wrong approach. I could use to put in a few requests.

I pray you’ll feel good today, Hayden. You missed the game yesterday with a nasty cold, and you seem only marginally better today.

I pray these sunbeams break through the fog this morning just enough to warm you.

I pray in thanks for the teammates who jokingly yet lovingly dedicated their efforts to you yesterday in your absence.

I pray for your mom and sisters on the road this morning.

I pray for Camdyn to learn and discover in her confirmation class.

I pray for Madison to have a good day at work, and have stories to tell me when i pick her up tonight.

Madison walking at Pompano Beach.

I pray for this week ahead of me, its possibilities and challenges.

I pray not for an easy road, because I wouldn’t know what to do with it.

I pray instead for patience and faith as I have to start over once again.

I pray someone will see me, the real me, not the me I’m told I am.

I pray for the courage to actually chase the life I dream of.

I pray that if I fall short in that courage, at least I’ll find the ability to provide.

I pray that somehow, Tuesday, our playoff matchup with a rival that hates us will come down to only soccer. To play and respect the beautiful game.

Camdyn after a game, at Harris Teeter.

I pray for the wisdom and knowledge I seek in every step of my day.

I pray that friends on the cusp of wonderful things find them in their due time.

I pray that I’ll never, ever, try to put on a hoodie backwards in public again. (I just did.)

I pray that friends who find themselves desolate will see the glimmer of hope they seek in something around them, some affirmation that they’re part of something whole and beautiful, and not just a small part.

I pray that Hayden visits her perfect college home and gets to play for her favorite coach ever (well, second favorite).

I pray that Camdyn will overcome challenges and see that she’s still such an incredible light and force when she takes the field.

I pray that Madison will continue her happy path, living as a young adult with her entire future in front of her, partially illuminated, partially (and wonderfully) out of site.

Hayden, Greta Garbot for Halloween.

I pray that this dependable and humble and unnamed car of mine continues to tote me and my girls everywhere we need to go.

I pray that I can write every day. Not just here, but in comments. I have so many comments unanswered right now, and to me, that’s the worst travesty of blogging.

I pray that God or the Universe or the Force will steer me toward those I can help and those who can help me.

I pray my body won’t fail me as I vanquish excuses for not taking care of it.

I pray for crisp autumn mornings when I’m the only soul on the disc golf course.

I pray that someday my girls will see me for the love I have for them and not for my earthy shortcomings.

I pray I’ll always have a snack and a clean hoodie in my car for you.

Camdyn on horseback at the neighborhood festival. (Yeah, that’s a San Jose Sharks sweater.)

I pray those friends who want to write about something will find the courage so to do. And that I’ll find that link.

I pray that tough times and tragedy will draw us together, not pull us apart.

I pray that my former players, many now grown up, will run into me at grocery stores and fast-food joints and tell me how they’ve been. Remember times we had together.

I pray that every day more people will stumble onto the incredible power of kindness and know that it really has no limits.

I pray for sales on cheese. Let’s be honest.

I pray for fall afternoons of watching football and grilling burgers.

I pray the dodgers and yankees don’t meet in the World Series. Anyone but.

Told you we tore it up.

I pray to find all that I’ve lost, to regain a sense of belonging, and to know when things aren’t meant to be. To forget what they said about me.

I pray for the opportunity to keep coaching and writing, and that my next job won’t just be a new chain to a new desk.

I pray to be on my feet more. I’m tired of sitting down.

I pray for a chance to work hard and feel it. For good and progress and helpfulness, not futility and stress and energy wasted on efforts that won’t change a thing.

I pray that each of you reading this will find a moment in your day, a time that fills you with the sense that the universe hasn’t forgotten you.

I pray, Hayden, that you’ll never stop asking me questions.

I pray for Marcus Mariota, of course.

I pray that you and I will find a way. Today and every day.