In my story, Eve’s Amulet, Book 1, I include prayer time as a routine but significant event for each of the characters. Meal time at Holiday Ranch is used as an opportunity to voice through prayer what might not otherwise be acceptable to say. Although the characters speak the truth, they allow honest moments to bypass common courtesy.

For me, prayer is deeply personal, one-on-one communication with my Creator. In my late teen years, prayers were usually a plea for help –for a new job or boyfriend. As I grew older, my prayers became a time for thanks or a healing request for another person. This week, my prayer time was severely neglected.

I joined forces with “Pops,” my ex-husband, this week to babysit my near 2-year old grandson, Merrik, while my daughter, Jasmin, was in the hospital. Merrik happens to be the most rambunctious and kinetic boy on the planet with unending energy resources. I think he has an invisible plug connected to me and that’s how he so easily depleted my life force. He didn’t put my daughter in the hospital, but I think on some level she enjoyed the reprieve.

My prayers reverted to my old ways this week, asking for myself –for more energy to take care of my grandson, for more patience to take care of my grandson, and for more time to get a shower in as I took care of my grandson.

I did give thanks one afternoon when Pops took Merrik off my hands for a belated birthday brunch with a dear friend. I gave thanks for mimosas.

I was too tired to pray for anyone at night after a couple of hours at Chucky Cheese, walks around the neighborhood pushing a stroller (my grandson is above average in weight and size for his age), and mopping up urine off the bathroom floor before his bath because I forgot Merrik wasn’t potty trained.

Each night I’d collapse near the edge of the mattress (because little ones take up so much room on the bed) and the moment I heard my grandson’s even breathing against the pillow, I gave myself permission to lapse into sleep. I’d enjoy deep slumber until Merrik moved, which was about every 10 minutes throughout the night. I’d find myself closer to the edge, would fall back asleep, and continue to repeat the cycle.

Last night, I realized that not once did I pray for Jasmin during the entire week. My mother and Auntie Barbara said rosaries for her, so maybe subconsciously I knew she was well taken care of. At least I returned to giving thanks last night. My daughter was released from the hospital late last night, and I took Merrik home this afternoon.

I think it is okay to pray for ourselves, but our compassion and focus have to be turned toward others if we want to receive in return. The more we give, the more we get back in one way or another, and that includes with energy as well. My grandson zapped all of mine but maybe when he’s older, he’ll learn to be a giver, too. I hope he will remember to add his mommy to his prayers and pray for his Nana, especially when she needs the energy.