Making Room to Pray

I am not formally religous. Organized religion sort of makes me recoil, actually, no matter who's organizing it. But lately, I really, really feel the need to take what I'm thinking about and hand it up to a higher power who will make it all have been for some purpose. Nearly two years ago, I started a little nightly ritual, called the Thank-You Candle. I bought a heap of little tealight candles (fair-trade palm wax, thank you much!), and every night at sundown, I light one, put it on my altar, and say thank you for something. Anything, really. It started out as an exercise in gratitude, in seeing at least one positive thing in every single day, and winding up my evening by dwelling on the up side. Then, as the candle burned and the smell filled the room, I'd smile a little, and think again about what I'm grateful for. But lately, my little statements of gratitude have been being overshadowed by bigger things. First, is little A. Diagnosed with a form of brain cancer, he is fighting all the time. And just a few days younger than my Rowan, well, let's just say that every time I chat with his mom, M, I am amused that two little boys on opposite sides of the world should be so alike. Rowan and I talk about him all the time, especially when we light the candle. And while Rowan's thinking about little boys being sick and then being well, I am thinking about mothers who carry it all upon them. How can we keep being expected to be so strong? Because the only other option is failure, and that's not acceptable. Second, is this whole Middle East thing that I have already ranted about. I can't even manage to think about the big stuff any more, the whys and wherefores. It's all just babies dying, in my mind. And it's too big for me to even come up with words for any more (although I'm sure I'll keep trying). Third, is fear. It's been hot here, and we're going to bed with the windows open. That means we can hear the sirens charging up and down the highway and the main street a few blocks over. We used to joke that "someone's having a crappy night." But lately, the sirens are going all the time, and it's just not funny any more. I'm not so naive that I think that every siren is simply good cops doing their best to protect me and mine. Why so many more sirens? Is everyone crazier? Are there suddenly more bad guys than there used to be? Fourth, and always, is compassion. I keep trying. But some days it is so incredibly hard to remember to treat those around me with compassion. I'd like to say that I had it in me to just do it, but lately, I have to remind myself in terms of juxtaposing it with the horrors going on elsewhere. I have to remind myself that "it could be worse, I could be living in Lebanon, or Afghanistan, or Iraq, so I can afford to be kind to pretty much anyone, no matter how churlish." I guess it's OK to take enlightenment in baby steps. As heretical as it is to say out loud, I've been listening to Yusuf Islam singing the Adhan, and it's comforting. I think there's a deep need, across humanity, to have a time every day where you just take it all, wad it up into a big ball, and hand it over to an omnipotent being who can handle it better than you can.