The earliest recollection I have of the 'power' of prayer is when I was about three or four years old. My mother, cousin, and I were on our way home from a nearby town to get replenishments for our small sari-sari.The sun just disappeared from the west and evening was starting.
The small boat the three of us were in was riding the gentle waves. It was getting dark, and the wind, soft at first, was starting to pick up. I was getting drowsier by the minute.
I must have dozed off as the next thing I remember was mother telling me to hold on tight, rain feeling like dogs falling from the sky, and angry waves. We were now going up and down, left to right. I was holding on tight to both sides of the boat, while my cousin was paddling fast to shore.
Mother told me to pray, so we could get to that part up ahead where there were lights. I wanted to ask how prayers could do that, but rain water was getting into my eyes, and it was difficult to breathe. So, I prayed silently, and my hands hurt from the force of my grip of the boat. This went on for as long as trips from my house in the city to grandma's place. Very long.
Then, the lights ahead got brighter and bigger and, moments later, I felt the boat hit sand.
We're back home.
The prayer I said saved us.
Maybe, my cousin did, too.
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