One Foot Planted

If you’re reading this you may be one of the close to 1,000 people who prayed for me at the very exact time my surgery started, 1 p.m. on November 4th.

I’ve heard about the praying.  I overheard people asking each other, “Where were you when you prayed for Miki?” And the stories have been told. People pulled their cars off the side of roads, went into offices with coworkers, had moments of silence. I heard that people were moved by that moment of prayer.  They felt something deep inside shift, tickle, align. They knew they were praying in a moment of community with others who were deeply connected to a belief that somewhere, maybe somehow, prayer could help.

I need to say, from where I sit, it’s been amazing.

I felt those prayers.  When I entered the surgical suite, I told everyone that those prayers would be flooding in for me and for my surgeon.  And I chanted, a particular chant asking for Divine Help from the moment I walked into surgery to the time I went into the deep sleep.  I chanted knowing that my chanting was being supported by each of you.  You were there with me.  And it gave me a sense of calmness.  I could feel the prayers floating around me, encircling me like a cloud of angel’s dust.  I was not afraid.  I was not afraid at all.

And when I woke, I had three very close friends each at the foot of my bed there to bring those prayers even closer, into my room of healing.  They sang for me, staying there late into the evening to make sure they could deliver on my wishes to do that. And I sang with them.  The healing energy that you poured into me filled that room.  And I was not afraid.  I was not afraid at all.

The outcome of the surgery was great news. Amazingly with this kind of cancer, the surgeon removed close to 99% of what was there.  Amazing.  I had an unbelievable recovery.  I never experienced pain.  I was up walking around rapidly and I am feeling fit as a fiddle in all aspects of my surgical recovery.

With the next several months of chemo, we are all positive about the prognosis of 100% remission.  Who knows what that all really means. In some ways, in doesn’t matter.  I am eternally grateful for each day.  For the joy of the cold wind on my face.  For the sunlight that shines through my kitchen window.  The nanoseconds of my happiness are greater, bigger, expanded more than ever.

Did your prayer work? I can not even express how much your prayer mattered to me.  I could see the faces of those I knew who prayed for me, in flashes across my mind’s screen, and I could imagine the faces of those I did not know who were literally located throughout the world, and I could feel that loving offering. Not only then, but I can recreate it again and again. Every time I chant, each one of you is with me.

And I am not afraid.  Not afraid at all.