Imagine prayer could be as simple as saying just three words. That's the core idea here – breaking down communication with the divine (or whatever you call that big mystery) into manageable, heartfelt phrases. It's not about fancy words or putting on a show; it's private, coming straight from your heart to "that which surpasses understanding". Think of it as talking to God, or maybe to the Good, the Life, Love, or even just the "Really Real" that's deep inside you, beyond all the usual stuff like your values or your hurts. It doesn't really matter what you call this force – some call it God, some call it Howard, Phil, or even the Grandmothers. The important thing is the communication itself, reaching out to something unimaginably big and not you. Sometimes, prayer starts when you're feeling completely desperate, crying out "God help me". This is actually a powerful prayer because it often happens when you're at your absolute lowest point, feeling the full weight of your problems. This state can make you teachable, ready to consider new ways of being. Or, it might be a simple, happy check-in: "Hey, hi, Person. Me again. The princess. Thank you for my sobriety, my grandson, my flowering pear tree". Prayer can even be shouting "I hate you, God," because it's real and honest. Whether you experience deep spiritual vibrations or have a more rational approach, prayer involves believing you're invited into a relationship with someone who listens, even when you're speaking in silence. You can pray for tangible things like health or a Mercedes-Benz, or for people and their well-being. Sometimes, you might even pray for things that aren't good for you – as someone wise once noted, more tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones. But you can also pray for presence, kindness to yourself, or simply asking if someone is there. Anything you say to God can be prayer. Prayer can feel like motion, stillness, and energy all at once. It might start when you're completely stuck, backed into a corner, or feeling like you're drowning. It's that moment when you finally stop running and start moving towards something, even if it's just crawling. It's a chance to believe, against everything, that you are loved and chosen, even when you feel like a total mess. In fact, being bitter, insane, or broken might be the best conditions to start praying. It's about connecting with something unseen and immense, something way bigger than you can imagine, even if you're a brilliant scientist. You might call it divine intelligence or love energy. It's you, just being human, reaching out to something eternal, full of vitality, intelligence, and kindness, even when you feel completely doomed. Being honest in prayer is key, and God can handle it. When you're telling the truth, you're close to God. Prayer is often about your real self trying to connect with the Real, the Truth, the Light. It's reaching out to be heard, hoping to find warmth and light instead of darkness and cold. Just like sunflowers turn towards the light, we are drawn to it because it warms us and helps us see beyond illusions to something deeper. This connection can be hard to put into words, like Rumi's idea of words being fingers pointing at the moon. But through the light and energy that draw us to pray, glimpses of this deeper reality become perceivable. And that brings us to the three simple prayers: Help, Thanks, and Wow. Let's look at each one! ### Help Ah, "Help." This is often the first prayer we utter, a raw cry when things feel utterly hopeless. It's born from pressure, isolation, suffering, and just feeling like you can't handle one more thing. Whether it's global issues, family crises, heartbreak, or even the impending loss of a beloved pet, sometimes all you can do is pray "Help". It's okay to be mad at death or whatever is happening. You can pray for health and happiness for friends and their children, asking for peace and a sense of God's love for them. You can pray for leaders to act for the common good or for aid after catastrophes. And yes, it's totally okay to ask for your cat to have an easy death or pray about your grandson's tender heart. Is God really going to say, "Sorry, no resources for the cat right now"? Probably not. You can pray for the planet, the poor, and the suffering people around you. While you pray for help, you might also recognize that immense compassion and help will come from other people. It's also okay to be angry at God sometimes. Hitting rock bottom, admitting you can't fix the unfixable, brings a strange kind of freedom. It's where restoration can begin, because trying to fix things yourself engages all the exhausting, crazy-making parts of your mind and body. So, "Help" means "Help us walk through this. Help us come through". It's the first great prayer. It's not about praying for specific outcomes or telling God what to do. It's more about asking for support and presence, like praying for God to "Hold my friends in Your light". There aren't words for the pain of losing someone, so you ask God to respond with graciousness and encouragement. You pray for miracles for the living and graceful passage for the dying, and for the survivors to somehow get through. It's also okay to pray to bear your own losses, like the death of a pet. Trying not to "finagle God" can be hard. One way to think about praying for help is seeing the suffering bathed in light, trusting that in God, there is no darkness. You might want to tell God to "shape up" because of a catastrophe, but that wouldn't work. Instead, you pray for hurting people to be filled with air and light, which can heal dark, musty places. You don't have to figure out _how_ it works, just know that it _does_. Looking back, the author's childhood lacked this sense of asking for help or praying. Death was like a "Big Eraser," and she was terrified and overly sensitive. Her parents were intellectual and thought people who prayed were ignorant, seeing it as "voodoo" or asking an "invisible old man to intervene". They saw God as the cause of suffering in history. They worshipped intellect and jazz musicians instead. The only one who seemed to pray was her gentle paternal grandfather, who loved his grandkids. The author believes his prayers had an impact. She recounts a childhood memory of secretly praying with her brother, wanting to "take the baby Jesus into my heart". It was a quiet, urgent act, hidden from their non-praying family. She remembers the babysitter's father's callused hands, so different from her own father's. This moment, perhaps influenced by the babysitter or her father, was the first time she remembers praying. She's prayed on and off ever since, even through a phase of atheism. Imagination is part of how we understand the world and God. Imagining God can lead to positive changes in behavior, making you more generous, patient, and kinder to yourself. This is how you know if your spiritual experiences are real, not just wishful thinking. The prayer "Help" comes up in urgent, painful situations, like praying for a friend's daughter with aggressive cancer. It's asking for a miracle, stamina, and just being okay today, while also being honest about the confusion and anger towards the situation. It's acknowledging that prayer and friendship might be all you have to offer. While you wish for a magic wand, and you haven't seen evidence of God having one, you _have_ seen miracles – like grace manifesting as "spiritual WD-40" or "ribbons of fresh air" – and witnessed the intervention of goofy angels. You've seen people survive unsurvivable losses and find happiness again, often through the love and support of others. This community support is a huge part of how people get through. Rabindranath Tagore's idea that life is service and service is joy resonates with this. Even if the hoped-for miracle doesn't happen, people can come through. Life is hard and often doesn't make sense, a theme explored in the Book of Job. We learn painful truths about people and suffering. But alongside this, we witness transformation and people finding their true selves. Where do we start on this path of restoration? We start where we are, finding God (or the divine) in our human lives, including the suffering. This can involve simple acts of service for others, or for ourselves. Sometimes, a higher power seems to entrust certain suffering people to our care, making it hard to ignore them, calling us to show up. This path might require letting go of what you were taught, especially if your upbringing wasn't stable and loving. It might mean breaking old contracts and telling the truth about your feelings, even the scary ones. It might mean letting go of worldly idols like your job or bank account and instead acting on the idea of a power greater than yourself. If you struggle to believe, you can "play along" or suspend your conviction and act _as if_ someone outside of you hears you. The story of the atheistic artist who found happiness for six weeks by acting _as if_ he had a higher power illustrates this possibility. A crucial step is admitting three terrible truths: you are ruined, you are loved, and you are in charge of very little. Recognizing your "true self" deep inside, separate from your messy mind, can help. From there, it's not a huge leap to imagine believing in a higher power. People conceive of this power in many ways – as a mountain, a comfy chair, or the Force. But when all else fails, when you're at the end of your rope and can't fix things with your own stressed mind, the prayer is the same: "Help". The examples are stark: "Help, this is all too much," or "I can’t do this," or "I hate the one I’ve created". They include relationship fears, existential despair, and the pain of caring for aging or dying parents. The death of a pet can be a profound experience of praying "Help," even when the outcome isn't what you wished for. Sometimes, despite desperate prayers for a peaceful end, death is messy and difficult. Yet, the prayer was answered in a way – the suffering ended. The Serenity Prayer is another well-known "Help" prayer, asking for the wisdom to know the difference between what can and cannot be changed. This prayer can act as a "reset button," a memo to yourself to rein yourself in. Beggy prayers, like asking for a dying mother to pass peacefully with her cat, might not be answered in the way you hope. You might have to make difficult choices and lie to ease a loved one's transition. Even when a prayer like "Help" is answered, the experience can be excruciating. But if the end result involves finding a warm, gentle place with care and comfort, perhaps the messy process doesn't diminish the spiritual experience. There are other prayers, like Thomas Merton's, acknowledging not knowing where you're going. Or a simple, beautiful prayer for the sick, hungry, homeless, and for world peace. The author even offers her own prayer acknowledging her messiness and lack of control, but trusting that surrender will lead to being met wherever she is, and expressing gratitude in advance. While some religious views might be harsh, many established prayers can be incredibly helpful in times of need. Most honest prayers remind you that you are not in charge, you cannot fix everything, and you need to open yourself to being helped by something or someone. They acknowledge your cluelessness while trusting that something else isn't. A practical tool for letting go is a "God box". You write down what's obsessing you, put it in the box, and essentially hand it over, even if your internal voice is still trying to micromanage. This act of willingness comes from the pain of not being able to let go. It's an act of faith, like asking God for help to see the next right step. The response might not be dramatic, but guidance will come. Trying to fix everything yourself is hopeless and leads to making things worse. Putting things in the God box is a childish act of courage, releasing your grip on things. It's announcing you can't do it anymore. This act takes you "off the hook" and puts God on it. When you release your grip, the situation can move freely, and you can breathe again. This is the shift from the "monkey island" of your busy mind to the present moment. Praying "Help" frees you from trying to figure it all out, which is exhausting. It frees you from trying to be your own or others' higher power. It's asking for the courage to stop running down a path that leads to darkness and instead shift your focus, even just slightly. This small shift can be a miracle, even if it initially feels like losing. But in surrender, you win. _Further Exploration:_ What situations make you feel completely helpless? How does the idea of surrendering control feel to you? Have you ever had a moment where crying out "Help" felt like the only thing you could do? ### Thanks "Thanks" is the second great prayer, a shortened version of a grateful exclamation. It often starts as a rush of relief from narrowly avoiding disaster – dodging a traffic ticket, avoiding an accident, or realizing a nightmare wasn't real. These are "DEFCON 1 moments of relief" that call for thanks. Deeper levels of thanks come with a sigh of relief, like finding something lost or getting good news about health. Gratitude is easy when things are going well, but life is complex and often hard. Saying thank you acknowledges the "package deal" of life, where sometimes the exhaustion and defeat create an opening for flow and minor miracles. It's also a response to the glimpses of how thin the line is between life and death, human and divine. You thank God when your obsessive thoughts quiet down or you get through a difficult appointment. Acknowledging that things "could have been so much worse" is also a form of thanks. Gratitude can range from simple appreciation for everyday blessings to intense relief from despair. It's recognizing when things, against the odds, have worked out in your favor. It can be about big things like finding a lost child or overcoming addiction. Even in the face of devastating domestic pain, grace can show up as stamina, poignancy, and the strength to hang on. Simple things like books or a postcard can transform life. Hands that once hurt you might now offer tenderness. Recognizing that you've been set free from something toxic, or that you've been graced with the ability to forgive, is astonishing and calls for thanks. Gratitude, even for small things like a good parking spot, can become a habit if you're lucky. It's important because it helps you see the blessings and truths revealed even in difficult family messes or challenging relationships. It's looking at a situation and saying thanks for the revelation, even if it's painful, because it offers a truth that might change your life. This moment of seeing the micro and macro simultaneously is astonishing. Life unfolds in unpredictable cycles of good and bad. If you're patient and pay attention, you might see things restored. Admitting gratitude can be hard because so many bad things happen. The truth that those you love will die is difficult enough. And yet, even when things fall apart and you are hurt beyond reasonable healing, people continue to love and show up. This resilience, the ability to make new ways to hold what remains, and reconnect with something good about yourself, leads you to look up and whisper "Thank you". You say "Thank you" when someone shares a difficult truth, appreciating their openness. You say "Thank you" when someone you love finds a way to see something blessed in a painful situation. Revelation, though sometimes painful, is a gift because it offers truth. We often try to hide our messes, but paying attention reveals how life stumbles along and how you can find your way through. Details revealed can take you out of yourself, which is a kind of heaven. Having stories to tell or hear is medicine and salvation. So you say "Thanks" because revelation shows you difficult things you might navigate or find a way through with prayer and friends. Even in a seemingly barren landscape, paying attention reveals hidden sources of beauty and water. Pastor Veronica's saying that God "always makes a way out of no way" is a truth that eventually leads to saying "Thanks". Even when things are awful, like facing a friend's serious illness in difficult circumstances, a divine revelation can shift your perspective. Finding warmth, beauty, and connection in unexpected ways leads to gratitude. Practicing "radical gratitude" means being grateful in the face of whatever life throws at you. Gratitude starts in the heart and moves into action. It makes you willing to serve others, which is where joy resides. It means you stop being such a jerk. Recognizing all you've been given, especially the lifesaving support of your community of people, is incredibly humbling. It's astonishing that these wonderful people stick with you and feel the same way about you. This realization can make you flush with appreciation. The idea that "to whomever much is given, of him will much be required" suggests that receiving such companions means you are called to give back. God's idea of gratitude isn't just waving your arms in praise like on TV. It's seeing us picking up litter, serving food, or reaching out to a difficult family member. It's sharing what you have or being kind to a stranger. When you've experienced profound rescue, like finding a lost child or getting sober, it can make you willing to spend time with others who are struggling, even if it's inconvenient or challenges your preconceptions. Mother Teresa, quietly serving the dying, is presented as an example of this kind of hidden service. Saying "Thanks" is a massive mind-shift from thinking God wants public displays and opinions about people you hate, to feeling quiet, humble gratitude without shame for being blessed. Breathing in and out gratitude helps you bear difficult people. Rumi's idea of "hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground" includes bearing the barely bearable. The movement from being clenched and self-righteous to grateful is grace, and you don't always know how it happens, you just say "Thanks". This invisible shift often happens through broken places, not successes. Pain can remind you to take action, like reaching out for help or getting outside. Even making a simple call, like to a struggling relative, counts. Doing the right thing lifts you out of your own negative thinking. Meaning "Thanks" can lead to the thought, "What more can I give?". Giving fills you. Sin is seen not as external acts, but as a hard heart and lack of generosity. The challenge is finding a crack for light to get in. You can't force yourself to be generous. You have to practice being receptive to gratitude. Like the nun who prayed for her defects to be taken away but was told she had to _give_ them to God, you might have to pray for the willingness to give up what you hate about yourself. You have to ask for help, even beg. Being a better person, following simple rules like the Ten Commandments or the Golden Rule, involves paying attention and trying not to be entitled or a jerk. Simple acts like letting others go first seem small but can profoundly change your day and potentially your life, creating a ripple effect. The movement from self-obsessed madness to spiritual awakening is grace. Gratitude is peace. It can take you from whining to appreciating the beauty around you. It allows you to feel wonder again. A personal story illustrates this: feeling lonely, praying "Help," doing a small kindness for herself (heating milk), going for a walk, and then finding gratitude for the clear view and the scent of spring despite the wind and her old dog's lameness. The initial frustration gives way to appreciating the beauty and the moment, leading to a heartfelt "Thank you, Mother" shouted towards the mountain. _Further Exploration:_ What small things can you feel grateful for today? How does acting generously or serving others change your perspective? Can you remember a time when something difficult unexpectedly revealed something beautiful or true? ### Wow "Wow" is the third great prayer, often expressed with a gasp of awe. It happens when you're stunned by beauty or destruction, a sudden insight, or a flash of grace. "Wow" means you're not dulled to wonder. It brings you fully into the present moment, whether it's the sight of birth, tragedy, or natural wonders. It's being mesmerized by the intricate details of nature or the grandeur of a landscape. The word has a history, appearing in Scottish texts and old ballads, capturing moments of surprise and intensity. It's the feeling of a child seeing the ocean for the first time or experiencing something truly special, like a first car. It's being almost speechless, managing only a single syllable. Being stunned to the place beyond words is where you really start to "get somewhere". It disrupts the comfort of thinking you have everything figured out. When life defies your ability to file it neatly away, and all you can say is "Wow," that's a prayer. "Wow" moments come in various sizes. Lowercase "wows" are modest but deeply satisfying experiences, like clean sheets after a hard day or seeing unexpected beauty in an ordinary place. Uppercase "Wows" are grand, mind-blowing experiences: Yosemite, fireworks, witnessing birth, or contemplating the sheer scale of dinosaurs and the universe. Learning about planets, multiple suns, and galaxies can be terrifying as a child. The only good news is landing on the planet with Monopoly and Oreos. As you grow, discoveries like rock and roll or love can also bring a "Wow," which can mean "Phew" – finding ways to cope with the overwhelming reality. "Wow" can also come from art, music, or compelling stories. Seeing a powerful film or hearing a moving piece of music can be a shared "wow" experience. Witnessing a friend recite poetry or hearing a story about cultural traditions surrounding death can leave a lasting impression. The author connects the word "God" to this feeling, quoting her son who said we call God "God" because when you see something great, you just say "God!". Nature is a primary source of "Wow," especially spring, which is described as crazy, full of hope, beauty, and glory, symbolizing resurrection. Poets capture this feeling. The details of spring, from buds to baby birds, are worthy of "Wow," even with the less pleasant aspects like ticks. Autumn is also full of "Wow" with its colors and smells. Spring is expansion and exuberance, while fall is hunkering down. Nature can also be brutal, especially in winter, revealing harsh realities. Life is full of eruptions and spasms, both in nature and in our families. Keeping your heart open means being affected by traumas, but against the odds, something emerges from the wreckage, allowing you to bear witness and help. Love shows up in these moments, pulling people back to their feet and helping things heal. Beyond the specific examples, "Wow" signifies wonder in the presence of magnificent art and music. Art allows us to glimpse "the breath of the invisible, of the eternal". It captures truth and makes it visible. Standing before great works of art, you are speechless, in awe. Awe is presented as a fundamental reason for our existence, and this state _is_ the prayer "Wow". It's seeing the sacred in human expression and recognizing the cyclical nature of life and death. "Wow" has a reverberation, a pulse that softens us. It's the mysterious movement of grace from hard to soft. Even when awful things happen and nothing seems to make it okay, if people don't abandon each other, eventually new life emerges from the devastation. "Wow" and "awe" are similar in feel and form, representing an energy that is given to us, even when we don't cooperate. Gorgeous, amazing things appear in our lives when we pay attention and have minimal expectations. Astonishing material and revelation are constantly available if we are open. Sometimes, we resist being receptive because we're trying to control things. But God's generosity is subversive; God just gives. This constant giving and forgiving, the chance to keep starting over, can seem scandalous. We often crave dramatic change, but it usually happens slowly. Staying stuck and safe, knowing only what you already know, is a kind of death. Newness, though scary and confusing, is life. Trying to understand and control life leads to death; instead, paying attention and looking up leads to "Wow". Even trying to cope with difficult feelings by seeking comfort (like chocolate) can unexpectedly lead to a moment of "Wow" by remembering something simple and beautiful from the past (like blackberries). Savoring that memory and the present sensory experience leads to a profound "Wow". _Further Exploration:_ Where do you find moments of genuine awe? How does being surprised by beauty or unexpected events make you feel? Can you think of a time when something you initially resisted turned into a "Wow" experience? ### Amen "Amen" is the traditional ending to prayers, meaning "And so it is" or "Truly". It's not God bossily declaring things finished, but us, the flawed humans, expressing hope and acknowledging the messy reality of life. We say "Amen" after crying out for Help, expressing Thanks, or gasping Wow. Life is full of sudden changes, beautiful discoveries, and slipping back into the ordinary. "And so it is". The sincerity of "Amen" matters. Rushing through it means missing a chance to connect with the eternal. Like failing better, we can try to pray better – longer, more honestly, with deeper breath and attention. Quiet, deep breath after prayer is another form of "Amen". We often pray without fully understanding who we are praying to or how to do it. While some claim specific instructions exist (like the Lord's Prayer), others, like Matisse, suggest the essential thing is simply putting yourself in a "frame of mind which is close to that of prayer". This can be done in many ways: bowing your head, lifting your hands, kneeling in desperation, or sitting in quiet communion. Shouting "Hello, Mother" to a mountain or saying "Oh my God" at the beach can be prayer. Prayer is also about finding solace, courage, and the ability to stay present and calm amidst life's eruptions and spasms. It's praying not to be self-obsessed and giving thanks for the small progress you've made, even if you still stumble. Recognizing that you and loved ones have "lightened up" over the years is astonishing. You can pray for a change in perception to see bigger, sweeter realities. Even seemingly small moments of recovery or connection, like a loved one making a sound or singing after being silent, can be profound and amazing if you have the wisdom to see it. Many people pray for deeper faith and a greater sense of oneness. Trust and surrender are often desired qualities but are difficult to cultivate. Prayer can help build the habit of trust and surrender, even if you struggle with them in daily life. The example of Pedro Arrupe finding profound spiritual experience in being totally in God's hands after his strokes illustrates a desired state of surrender and trust. The longing to feel beloved on earth, as in Raymond Carver's poem, is also touched upon as a fundamental desire. Amazing things, like forgiveness and healing, keep appearing in our lives. Even when we resist or cause more problems, grace and progress continue because God gives. As C. S. Lewis noted, prayer doesn't change God, it changes _us_. It brings you back to your heart, out of your mind, and into the present moment. It helps you get your sense of humor back. So, the practice is constant prayer between attempts at living life on its own terms: Help, Thanks, Wow. Ending prayers with "Amen" is a long-standing tradition, a way of saying "And so it is". The basic instructions for living involve breathing, paying attention, loving others, and learning to love ourselves. It's about serving others and trying to leave the world a little better. These are the basic instructions, and to them, you can add "Amen". It's a good response to connecting with the divine and with others on the journey. When you do your best and leave the results in God's hands, "Amen" is a fitting response. _Further Exploration:_ What does "And so it is" mean to you in different situations? How does prayer help you get out of your head and into your heart? What small action can you take today that aligns with these ideas of service and attention?