Prayer.

I don't pray.

I dream, I hope, I wonder, I have conversations with small children who can't reply, books, animals, television commentators, pieces of furniture that get in my way, imaginary friends and, of course, wrestle with my conscience. Some of these things may be more analogous to praying than others might have you believe. I'd like to think so. But I don't know for certain.

But whether you do or do not pray yourself, I ask tonight that you please put one out there for Baby Kate, my friend A.'s daughter. Kate was born on 12/17/07. A few weeks later, she just stopped breathing. When she was admitted to the hospital, doctors discovered that she had suffered severe brain damage from a series of idiopathic seizures. As of yesterday, Kate was stable enough to leave the NICU. But the doctors believe that the brain damage is permanent and it has left Kate without any of her basic reflexes. Among other things, that means that she cannot swallow. Even with round the clock care, the prognosis for Kate is not good.

I can't even imagine what my friend is going through. I don't ever want to be able to imagine it either.

Now usually, after getting an email update as sad as this one, I might talk to friends over the unfairness of the situation. I might hug my kid a little extra hard. I almost always find some alcohol. And, you know, sometimes I might even tell the Universe that I am royally pissed off. I don't generally ask people to pray. It just ain't my bag.

But, A., a devout Christian, has asked for just that. She has asked not only for those of us who know her and Kate to pray but to ask everyone we know to do the same. She wants to, as she put it, overwhelm the heavens with good feeling for her daughter.

So tonight, I will get down on my knees, putting aside any feelings of hypocrisy or silliness because I have no idea what I'm doing, and talk to the God that A. believes in for a miracle for Kate. I will ask for Kate's recovery. And if that is too much, I will ask that she is comfortable, not in pain and knows how much she is loved. I will also ask that A. continue to receive the composure and grace that she has shown through this ordeal no matter what the outcome. And just this once, I am going to do my best to believe that my doing this will make a difference for my friend and her tiny daughter.

I ask that you please do the same.