Earlier this summer, a book caught my eye because of its title. On the cover were the words, “worry cry argue fight”, all crossed out. Then, boldly circled: “pray first”. The subtitle promised to reveal “the transformative power of a life built on prayer”. Right up my alley, I thought; perfect. So, as I do with many books, I ordered it used. As soon as it arrived, I opened it, ready to begin reading, only to find an inscription on the inside cover: “You are one of my prayers. God listened to me and gave me the most wonderful man. My right one.” Signed and dated 12-24-2023.
Which immediately led me to wonder how this book had traveled from one of the most beautiful attestations of transcendent love, “You are one of my prayers,” to the $2.99 discount rack. Had he died? Had they broken up? Had he read the book’s title as a passive aggressive, “You need to pray more!”? I was suddenly imagining a whole domestic drama unfolding between the dedication page and the used book sticker. Of course, there's the more mundane possibility that he received the book, read it, then simply did some Marie Kondo-ing. Apparently, sometime between Christmas Eve 2023 and the used-book shelf in 2026, this answered prayer had stopped sparking joy.
By summer’s end, I realized I had spent more time mulling this mystery than I did reading the actual book. Something stuck in that inscription like a thorn. Maybe their love is flourishing and he simply ran out of shelf space! I hope so. But the less lovely possibilities had already raised a harder question that just wouldn’t let go: What happens when we get what we prayed for – and life keeps happening? What do we do when our answered prayers don’t stay answered?
