The last fervent prayer I said was sometime in 1984/85 which was a Novena to the Infant Jesus of Prague to help me pass Spanish and Math exams. For over 20 years, I have not been in speaking terms with my Maker/the Universe simply because I have learned to believe in myself since the divine 'Help Line' was always busy or disconnected. I also had no bargaining powers so I would leave praying to other people who do it better.
Begging really got me nowhere.
However, for the first time in 30 years, I bought myself to say a prayer of thanks last Thursday night when I realized that my husband could have been one of those people in Mumbai. He was there exactly one week before this catastrophe.
My husband goes to India very often--maybe every other month--and stays either at the Taj or the Oberoi. When at the Oberoi he stays on the 19th floor, the very floor where hostages were held. He also holds a UK passport. The Mumbai staff also happened to be in HK this week so they escaped this (but they still have family there).
I look at this as a return call from God (maybe he finally fired his bitch secretary who never gave him my messages).
I guess this must be a sign for me to get back down on my knees at the time when they give me the most problems.
Well, as they say, better late than never!