(This is a continuation of the story “The Prayer.”  If you have not read it, some of this will not make sense.)

Slowly I sit up in the darkness.  Sleep just will not come tonight.  Oh well.  A good walk might do the trick.  I grab my shoes and set off on my usual journey.  We find ourselves back at the hospital.  Things have been going well; we are here just for tests to see how things are going.  Nothing major, nothing pressing, just basically a progress report.  Why I can’t sleep, good question.  I never can.  I set out on my journey.  I walk on with no purpose other than to burn energy, release questions I cannot answer, find peace in a world that answers begin with “Well” and end with “not sure.”

I decide to head for the one place I have been avoiding for a while.  As people and generally as men we decide that we must do everything ourselves.  Why, I do not know but we do, and so I have been.  I find my nondescript door and walk in.  One again I am in awe of such simple majesty in such a common place.  I am hoping to find my friend that I met last time, my angel that finally brought a little peace for a while.  I sit down determined to wait him out.  I am sure he will be here soon.  I wait for a while lost in thoughts of life, my wife, my kids, cancer, and that basic old question “why.”  Why, out of so many billions of people in this world, my wife got cancer.

I still do not have the answer so I decide to move around a little bit to pass the time.  I am a pamphlet reader of sorts.  I don’t read the whole pamphlet but I like to read the titles to pass the time.  On the wall behind the door is a rack full of them.  A good twenty minutes of time to kill.  So I start to walk over and get to it when something catches my eye on the wall next to the rack.  It seems I have found my friend.  I cannot breath; by shear will I stand and look at the picture of my friend.  I force myself to read on.  “In honor of Chester G. Robinson, a dedicated servant of the Lord and this hospital for forty four years.  May his kindness be felt through the ages.  May his ministry live on forever, and may his gift of hope be felt by all who pass through these doors.”

I am floored.  I manage to keep standing, and I just stare at the plaque.  I don’t know for how long, just standing, just staring, trying to comprehend, trying to put all of the pieces together.  Ending up back at the same starting point, “why.”  I am startled when a soft voice with a Spanish accent says, “did you meet him?” When I finally catch my breath I say, “Yes.”  He says, “I apologize, I did not mean to startle you.  My name is Padre Francisco De Paz.  Everyone calls me Father Francis.” “When did it happen, how long ago, what happened?”  “Please,” he said, “let us sit down and talk for a bit.”  I am putty at this point.  It seems all of the answers that I knew were here had just vanished.  My guardian angel was gone, I feel so alone.  I slowly sit down in the pew and he sits down next to me and asks, “So how long have you known Chester?”  I somehow find my voice and answer, “I met him a year and a half ago when he found me  fitting in here early one morning.  He gave me the answers I needed back then, I was hoping he might have some more.”  “Ah yes,” he said, “Chester always just knew the right thing to say.  He was a very good man.  So when you first met him did he ask you why you were here?”  Yes, I said. So what was your answer?  I said I was looking for answers.  And Chester asked, “The answers to your questions or your prayers, am I correct?”  I looked at him kind of funny and said, how did you know that?  He asked everyone that same question.  Did you understand what he was asking?  No, I said, I had too many questions in my head at the time and I just let that one go.  So why are you back here, ask the Padre.  I guess I am still looking for those answers.  Answers to what, he says your questions or your prayers.  I really don’t know I say.  I still don’t understand the question.  I know you don’t, and neither do I, said the Padre, and that is my point.  here are some questions that will never have answers.  Your question is “why,” am I correct.  Yes, I say.  Have you ever had an answer to that question, he asks.  No, I say, then maybe you need to stop looking for the answer to your question and start looking for the answers to your prayers.  We can answer the question why when there is a quantifiable answer like why do I not have any money, well because you spent it all.  Why is easy to answer because there is an answer to the question.  But sometimes in life there is just no quantifiable answer to that question.  Why do some things  happen?  If I don’t know is the answer then maybe you need to stop worrying about the question and its answer and start asking for something else.  Like the answers to your prayers.  I am still a little confused and I think the padre senses this and he continues.  Do you know what the definition of insanity is, he asks.  I say, yes, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.  He says, yes that is correct.  So if you keep asking the same question over and over and keep getting the same answer are you just as insane.  I look at him kind of funny and he continues.  Stop wasting your energy asking the impossible question.  Start using your energy to find solutions to your problems.  The focus should not be, why, the focus should be what are we going to do about it.  At this point I am starting to understand a little bit about what he is saying.  So you’re saying that why this happened doesn’t matter, because we can’t change it.  It just happened.  So I need to stop focusing on why and start focusing on what can I do to change it. You are starting to get my point, he said, but sometimes it is not even what you can do to change it. Sometimes it is just a matter of faith that things will get better.  Sometime we just have to believe.  Sometimes we just have to find the answers in our prayers.  So now, he says, are you looking for the answers to your questions or your prayers?  I smile and say, thank you, I will try to start looking for answers to prayers.  We sit in silence for a while and he says, I need to get going, but will you pray with me?  I say, absolutely, but is it ok if I say the prayer.  He gives me a big smile and says, of course.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for sending Father Francis to see me today.  It is in his kindness that I realize that you have a plan for me, and it is not my job to figure out why you have that plan.  It is my job to figure out how to serve you the best way I can.  So please God give me the guidance that I need to do this.  Walk with me and hold me up when I stumble,  give me a push when I fear I can go no further, give me courage,  give me strength,  fill me with your love so as I walk forward on this journey I can pass that love on to others.  Give me the will to help someone on their journey.  Stand with me on the front lines of our battle and help me be courageous so that I can pass that courage on to others that need that courage as much as I do.  Thank you for all that you do and all that you will do.  Amen

As I walk back to our room I find my calmness, I go in and give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her I love her.  I watch her for a while and slowly drift off to sleep, knowing that my prayers have already been answered.  He knew what I needed before I even left this room.