This Thanksgiving, I'm Grateful For Those Who Prayed For Me

I was chatting with an old friend today who reminded me what a mess I was in 2009. "I was done with you," she said, "but now I beam with reminders to never give up--God hears our prayers!"

My friend reminded me of my trip out to San Francisco to visit her and her husband in February of that year, and how I wasn't the greatest influence for him--the partying, the dispensaries in Oakland, the Oxycontin. Her devoutness was always a source of annoyance for me, "Cathy Catholic" I'd call her. On that trip she took me to a pro-life party, and I didn't want to be there; I ended up catching a cab back to their place early. She suggested a book by Christopher West on a different occasion when I had gone to visit and I threw it across the room.

"I had you on the list," she told me, referencing the list of people she prayed for regularly during Adoration. "Not everybody comes around off it."

I also recalled a memory from high school. My dad and I were driving and went by our our town's Roman Catholic church, Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Mass was just getting out. "Look at all those people," I said with vitriol, "nothing but stupid sheep without a mind of their own." He put me in my place, and quick. But still--I have had a long streak of rebellion and waywardness, despite becoming Catholic only a few years after that event, and even into my years as a Catholic.

I can't explain it or come to terms with it by any kind of rational reasoning. The only thing I can say, over and over, is that God's grace saved me. There simply is no reasonable explanation than that, and that people were praying for me. My friend Cathy Catholic included.

I think of priests like Fr. Don Calloway, MIC whose mother never game up praying for him when he was a wayward drug addicted Deadhead teen. For my friend Joseph Sciambra, whose father never stopped praying the rosary for him as he abandoned himself to a life of gay hedonism. For Augustine's mother, Monica, who spent years imploring God to bring him home.

If I didn't have people praying for me, adopting me in prayer, like Cathy did, I may very well be dead right now, or at least still be straddling the life of tortured faith and a life of debauchery. It took a while, but she was faithful, even though she was done with me at the time on a relational level, she abandoned me to the Father. And the Father took care of the rest, leading me home.

Never give up in praying for people. Be like the persistent widow in Luke 18:1-8, who won't leave the judge alone until he gives her what she asks. Be bold, and don't give up hope. God doesn't work on our time schedule, but he always hear our prayers. And if you've been saved, spiritually adopt someone else, and be intentional about praying for them, regularly, even when you think they are lost. Pray it forward. For our God is one that brings people back from the dead. Present company included.

Happy Thanksgiving, from our family to yours.