Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself to this: "Great God, grant that twice two be not four."~Ivan Turgene

I have prayed daily for all of my conscious life. There have been times that I've felt connected with God, and have heard direct answers when I've asked questions. I thank God silently feeling the sunshine on my skin, watching the rain water the roses, tasting Ghiradelli chocolate brownies, holding my newborn child. Most of the time, though, my prayer has been a dialog, like Tevya from Fiddler on the Roof.

Something has happened lately, though, and I find myself unable to pray. It is profoundly disturbing to me. When my soul talks it disolves into a dark nothingness. Not even an echo.

I believe it's because of my 'unanswered' prayers, or the ones that were answered with a solid 'No.'. Those prayers haven't been trivial-not for a sunny day on a Susan B. Koman run day, not for my skinny jeans to fit, not for the 4th grade class to like my cookies & cream ice cream torte. The deepest prayers I've prayed were for my children.

Don't get me wrong; I've also prayed for others in the world. I've prayed for the world to stop smoking, even though we've been given free will. I've prayed for the end of wars, for wisdom for the decision-makers who can stop wars. I've prayed for neighbors who've been in pain. I've prayed for family members who are short on hope.

But the prayers that come from the deepest part of me are for my children.

Several years ago, I became very angry with God for allowing bad things to happen to A. I battled the theory that God is non-interventionist-that free will thing again. Then I thought about God sending His son to us; that didn't seem too non-interventionist to me.

I pondered what Jesus would do about A's troubles if He were here. I compared it to what I had done. And I saw myself as Jesus' hand on earth. This was what Jesus had come to teach us to do.

But now, years later, and more pain for A, and now limbo for J, I've reached a new level. Why does God let horrible things happen to innocent children?

I don't have an answer for this. Maybe I should read 'Why Bad Things Happen to Good People'. In the meantime, I've been reduced to feeling foolish for even pretending to talk to a God who doesn't seem there.

It leaves me lonely. I wake in the morning and my mind reaches to whomever, to say Hello! and Please help me be a good person, mom, wife and Thank you for the sunshine peaking through our shades and the husband beside me. I go to sleep at night, ready to talk about the day, laugh over the funnies, cherish the warmth, nurse the wounds.

But those thoughts fade into a darkness. They may still be heard for all I know. I've lost my daily companion, though, and I miss that immensely.