It’s dark. Early morning. The glow from the screen is lighting my face and the small area around my hand that holds it.
I am glued the the flight tracker that monitors the plane. The plane holds a piece of my heart and it is on the other side of the world. 15 minutes till it lands. I can’t hold my breath for that long. I’ve tried. Instead, I am holding what is left of my heart and sending prayers.
I don’t think I have ever prayed so hard in my life like I have in the last 26 hours. Prayed so much that the prayer became more than a thought. It became physical. Tangible. It became water in my eyes and a force flowing out of me toward heaven and then to my piece of heart. I don’t know exactly where he was but I could see it finding him, encircling him. I prayed as if I had the power to move planes and people to my will. Maybe I did. “Please make your gate! Please be on time! Please ask for help. Please, please, please.”
And now you are almost there. 4 minutes.
Soon my prayers will start up again. Actually they have already started. I can feel them on my cheek and pillow. I am not sure if I have the stamina for this but I push through because it’s the only thing I can do. It’s the only power I have left. Thank God it’s a strong one.