Yesterday morning I noticed a visual aura, a flashing of lights on the edge of my peripheral vision. Back in the college day I experienced these as harbingers of a migraine headache, often having just enough time to hightail it back to my dorm room to ride out the pain and nausea in the darkness of my tie-dyed curtained room. Those migraines usually occurred after a stressful time such as final exams or the completion of a big paper, and while manageable, they were also miserable disrupters to the life of a college girl. A consultation with a neurologist suggested that I treat it with a prescription medication, which I did, and it helped once the migraine came on.
I’d never done this before, but walking across campus with another recent migraine barely behind me, I said out loud to the God that I can’t explain but who I love and who loves me back, “Thank you that I will never get another migraine.”
And I never have.
Not in more than 50 years.
For whatever reason, there was in that moment an unshakable belief that I would be heard, and yet, that my prayer was answered in that way still baffled me. Mine was no better a prayer, or stronger a faith, or deserving a soul. Countless others have prayed to be healed, and have not been. Countless others have prayed for their loved ones to be healed, and they’ve not been. I’ve prayed countless prayers that have not resulted in what I hoped or asked for. Perhaps my prayer was answered not because of my faith, but in spite of it. Perhaps faith isn’t about life turning out as we pray for, but about trusting that when we cry out we will be heard. And if we are heard, then we are seen. And if we are seen, then we are not alone, come what may. And that is true, whether we pray, or not.
Like yesterday, over the years those unmistakable auras have arrived, and when they do, I return to that exact spot on campus that resides in my memory, and say, out loud, “Thank you that I will never get another migraine.” And once again, that baffling answered prayer reminds me that mine isn’t to try to figure out why, but to simply remember that when I cry out I will be heard. And if I am heard, then I am seen. And if I am seen, then I am not alone, come what may. And that is true, whether I pray, or not.
I believe in the power of medicine, both modern and ancient. I believe in seeking professional medical care for what ails us. I believe in medical research, scientific methods, and a rigorous peer review process. I believe in vaccines to help us protect ourselves and one another. And yes, I believe in acetaminophen.
I also believe in the power of prayer, regardless of the answer. Sometimes medicine is the answer to our prayers, and sometimes prayer is the medicine we need.
