The Answer

It can happen.

George was on his knees, facing his platform rocker. Head bowed, eyes clamped tightly shut, hands clasped together in fervent prayer. This was an occurrence rare enough to claim it had never happened before, because it hadn’t.

But George sort of thought he’d heard something. “Just ask.” What could it hurt? So here he was, asking. Lord God Almighty. Please, help me.

It was an honest request, a fervent prayer. There was so much wrong, so much to make things right that George simply knew in his heart of hearts, no single prayer could ever fix it. He asked anyway, poured out his heart and his mind and offered up his very soul, Lord, please.

George, in his personal aura, suddenly felt gripped and warmed, as if covered with a soft blanket. Somehow, he knew he’d been heard. Even if nothing came of it.

Many years before, George’s great-grandfather Lewis had dreamed out a similar prayer, one of many others like it. Please see to the needs of my children, sweet Lord. All of them...Please see to their needs.

Those requests had been heard, too.

But George, as it happened, had not been a godly man. If anything, he had ignored the faiths of his father and grandfather and great-grandfather, and seemed to have paid a price, for his life had become a trainwreck of tragedy. His son was a green-haired, tattooed liberal jackass, his do-nothing brother-in-law owed him a lot of money, his wife had been sick for a month, was now off of her feet and had been scheduled for testing to determine if she had MS. The bank was threatening foreclosure after three missed mortgage payments while George had been laid off. His alcoholism, temporarily in remission, was boiling back to the surface, and to cap it all off, his beloved dog, the true owner of his own heart, had died. George had spent the morning, burying her. Lastly, George himself hadn’t been feeling at all well. He knew it was mostly stress.

So, yeah. Asking. It felt right to ask.

When the prayer was finished, George didn’t move. He just didn’t feel like moving, so didn’t get up. He stayed, right there. He had no idea how long he was in place. What finally got him up was a sharp knock at the front door.

George peered through the peephole and he thought, “a cop!” He’d done nothing, so he took a step back and opened the door. There stood two cops, not one, and George’s son stood between them. Ah, well. Things were about to get worse.

“Sir, your son did a great thing. He protected an elderly woman from a physical attack by a couple of vagrants. Took a few lumps, but he’s okay. You can be proud of him.”

The cops turned and walked away, his son walked past him. “Sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Everything. Gotta go get rid of the hair dye.”

Wow. Okay. Works for me.

Just then George’s wife breezed past, fully dressed and looking great. “Hey, hon. Guess what. I feel wonderful! Figured it was time to get moving...”

George sat down hard in his platfform rocker. What had happened? Talk about a change in fortune...

The doorbell sounded, and George got up to answer the door.

There stood Clive, his brother-in-law. Holding the most beautiful puppy George had ever seen.

Clive extended his arms, handing off the pup. “Hope you don’t mind, bro. Heard Katie was sick. Hey how’s my baby sister?”

Katie II was soon on her way to the kitchen being carried by George’s wife.

“Wow, George, that’s some turn-around, Sis had. Hey look.” Clive reached into his jacket and extracted an envelope.

“I finally got a job. And a loan. Figured you could use some of the money that I owe ya. This is fifty K, more soon.” Clive turned and walked out the door without another word.

Stunned, George reached around the corner and grabbed up the morning’s mail. The letter on top was from his bank.

George tore it open, and read, “Due to an accounting error, your mortgage was placed in collection status a month early. We apologize, and we want to offer a skip-payment for one month in compensation. This way, a single payment is currently due. Please let us know if this is acceptable.”

George didn’t know what to do with himself. He had no idea. He thought to pace and he stepped twice, then sat down hard in his rocker. He knew that sometimes prayers didn’t get answered at all, but this??

This was just nuts.

Immediately he clasped his hands and bowed his head.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you...

His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. George extracted it, pressed a button and received an almost-job-offer, an interview invitation that all but guaranteed he’d be hired. He thanked the caller, set the phone down, and wept freely.

Eventually he composed himself, walked to his liquor cabinet and removed his single remaining bottle of booze, unscrewed the cap and emptied its contents into the drain.

It was his second-best decision of the day.

****************