Starfish Envy

On The Second Day Of Thankful... Prayers

Yes, I said prayers.

This will come as quite a shock to those who know me well.  I'm not exactly religious, and I don't exactly pray.  

I mean, like most people, I pray when the airplane gets bouncy, or when I reallyreallyreallyreally want something and happen to have a little time because I can't sleep-- but it's not something I've integrated into my life.  And, frankly, if I did have more time for spiritual reflection, I'd probably spend it on meditation.

But tonight I came home to a card in the mail that reads: "Dear Sarah, A Candle was Lit for You and Your Intentions;  The Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche, Mission Nombre de Dios, St. Augustine, Florida, With Love, AG, Dana, & Melvin."

(AG is my Aunt Gene, Dana is her sister, and Melvin is Dana's husband.)

With the card was a medallion and a pamphlet about The Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche, which is apparently a place where women come to pray for their children, if they have them, or to pray to have children, if they don't.

I found it incredibly touching, beyond description really, that AG, Dana, and Melvin -- who were visiting St. Augustine on a golf trip -- thought to light a candle and say a prayer for me.  Kinda chokes me up, to tell you the truth.

I know Chris has prayed for me before, and there may well be other readers out there who have, too.  

And, as strange as this may seem coming from someone who isn't religious, I really appreciate it.  

Thank you.

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The pamphlet included some suggested devotional prayers, and I found this one to be particularly moving: "Lovely Lady of La Leche, most loving mother of the Child Jesus, and my Mother, listen to my humble prayer.  Your motherly heart knows my every wish, my every need.  To you only, His spotless Virgin Mother, has your Divine Son given to understand the sentiments which fill my soul.  Yours was the sacred privilege of being the Mother of the Savior.  Intercede with Him now, my loving mother, that, in accordance with His will, I may become the mother of other children of our heavenly Father.  This I ask, Lady of La Leche, in the Name of your Divine Son, My Lord and Redeemer.  Amen."

(I swear, this is not my circuitous way of asking anyone to pray for me.  I just think it's a particularly lovely prayer.  Totally made me cry.) 

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Also, my first Give-Away is wrapping up soon!  I'll draw a name on Thanksgiving night and one lucky lady or gent will win personalized signed copies of WP's and my two books, as well as a Lie to Me cap and a Vampire Diaries water bottle!  All you have have to do to enter is make a donation of any amount (1$ will work.  So will $5.  So will $50. Or, hey, why not $500!) to Water.org and leave a comment here saying you did.  You can also let me know on Twitter (@sarahmfain).

In Which I Confess

I prayed. 

I admit it, okay?  And I am not a praying person.  But this morning... sitting in my doctor's office, holding the frozen vial of swimmers, waiting for them to warm up and wake up... I prayed.

And I mean I prayed sincerely.

There were a lot of thank yous in my prayer-- starting with a big one to my donor (I will write about how I chose my donor soon, I promise.  It's just such a big thing.  I get overwhelmed every time I start to think about it.), and followed by several more to God, though I'm not even actually sure I believe in him.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't.  I believe in something, just not so much in God, per se.  Nonetheless, he got a lot of thanks from me today.

And one not-so-simple request: a happy, healthy baby.

Or two would be fine, God.

In case You read this blog, I want You to know: I'm totally down with two.

Remember That Good Day I Had?

Small victories.  Sometimes that’s the best we can do.  Two years ago, if I’d had an hideously awful day like today I would have stopped by McDonald’s on the way home, gotten a quarter pounder with cheese, large fries, a huge diet coke, then picked up something incredibly unhealthy for dessert (I’m guessing a red velvet cupcake, possibly a bread pudding), called as many friends as I could find to vent, and cried myself to sleep.

The jury’s still out on crying myself to sleep, but I managed my stress quite differently today than I would have in the past.

First, I didn’t call anyone to vent. 

According to my favorite resource for all things life-improving, The Happiness Project, talking about negative feelings doesn’t actually help dissipate them-- it just makes the negativity hang around longer. 

This is also the subject of one of my favorite Zen parables, which, for your reading enjoyment, I’m copying in its entirety from detoxifynow.com:

Two traveling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the current, she asked if they could carry her across. One of the monks hesitated, but the other quickly picked her up onto his shoulders, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other bank. She thanked him and departed.


As the monks continued on their way, the one was brooding and preoccupied. Unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked that one up on your shoulders and carried her!"


"Brother," the second monk replied, "I set her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."

Buddhists are so smart.  Why am I not a Buddhist?

Second, I didn’t go to McDonald’s.  Instead, I went to one of my favorite restaurants, by myself, and read the latest Kathy Reichs novel on my Kindle.  It was lovely.  It was distracting.  I felt better.  (Until the Thursday Night SCENE started happening.  Then I felt like a loser.  But by then I was ready to leave.)  And my grilled chicken salad and corn on the cob (with some chips and salsa) was a far cry from a quarter pounder with cheese and fries.  (Must admit, I also had a vodka on the rocks, but since I drink about once a month, I figure that’s okay.  On the shittiest day ever.)

Third, I didn’t pick up a massively unhealthy dessert.  Instead, when I got home, I had a perfectly pleasant sugar-free fudgesicle.  Did I want to drive to Whole Foods and get a sugar-free apple pie, which would technically fit under my no-sugar ban, but still be a really stupid, self-defeating thing to do?  Oh, yes, I did want to.  I wanted to A REAL LOT.  But I didn’t.

Small victories.  One step at a time.  And, just maybe, instead of crying myself to sleep, I will instead institute a new bedtime mantra:  This too shall pass.  This too shall pass. This too shall pass.