Moose Prayer

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Learn more about the science behind the weight loss at truthaboutweight.com. This is Lee Habib, and this is our American Stories. And we tell stories about everything here on this show. And our favorite stories are our listeners' stories. They're your stories. Our next story comes to us from Paul in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Paul moved our listeners with his story, Wilbur and the Empty Nester, and a baby boomers battle with insanity and fitness.

We asked him if he had any more. Here he is with a story simply titled Moose Prayer. Have you ever seen a moose? I have. They're big, strong, powerful, and athletic. Have you ever wanted to be a moose?

I did. I lived with a moose all throughout my childhood, growing up in Bloomington, Minnesota, the middle child of a cluster of eight devout Catholic kids. I have three older brothers, one older sister, two younger brothers, and one younger sister. I grew up idolizing my older siblings, what I wouldn't have given to be as cool as them. Such was the thought of this impressionable little brother.

It was Tom, the firstborn, five years my senior, that I most wanted to emulate. His nickname? Moose. A three-sport star at Kennedy High School, larger than life in my 10-year-old eyes. To a fifth grader, a 15-year-old moose may as well have been Paul Bunyan.

He could do it all. What does this have to do with the moose prayer? Let me start by asking. Have you ever wondered whether God is listening to your prayers?

I have wondered the same. As a high school sophomore, I remember praying that the cute, energetic cheerleader would fall head over heels for me. I was a shy, bashful, awkward teenager. It didn't happen. God didn't answer my prayer. Or did he?

It turned out the cheerleader and I had very little in common. I also remember another selfish prayer, a petition I made before my varsity hockey games. Please God, help us to win and help me to score a goal. A victory and a goal did not always happen. God didn't grant that prayer request either. Or did he?

Perhaps I scored more goals than I deserved. Or what about my prayer, asking that God would give me over my fear of public speaking? He certainly didn't answer that one the way I had hoped.

After 58 years, I still shiver at the thought and stutter when attempting to speak in public settings. Or was it answered indeed? This leads me to the prayer that God answered for me without a doubt. My Moose Prayer.

Let's go back to the 10-year-old 5th grader and his 15-year-old oldest brother. One evening, Moose and I were in our basement in the middle of an all-star wrestling match and it happened. Bam! I could not believe my eyes. Moose, while performing a wrestling move, banged his head on the duct work above us. While he was busy shaking off the cobwebs, I was standing there in awe.

How could he hit his head on something that high? My brother, Moose, was indeed larger than Paul Bunyan. He was a giant after all, confirmed in my mind right then and there. Thus, my Moose Prayer was born. From that night forward, I ended my bedtime prayers with, Please Lord, help me to grow to be as big as Moose. Prayer after prayer, night after night, year after year. I was relentless. I wanted more than anything to be as big as my big brother. I kept up this prayer for a good five or six years, never letting up. While we don't have a lot of tall jeans in our family, my dad pushing six feet, my mama petite five feet five inches, my non-Moose brothers at five eleven, although most of them are still claiming to be six feet, but Moose topped out at six feet two inches.

Big, strong, powerful and athletic indeed. As for me, somehow I grew to be six feet six inches. How did that happen? I don't know for sure. Was it the peanut butter, my favorite food? I doubt it. Coincidence? Maybe.

In answer to my Moose Prayer, I think quite possibly yes. For God tells us, Ask and you will receive, Seek and you will find, Knock and it will be opened unto you. I certainly ask to be tall, with passion, over and over again. For me, I believe God chose to answer my prayer and then some. His way of telling me, Do not doubt, have faith. I hear you and will answer your prayers. This knowledge He has given me, this faith, has served me well over the years. On days when my faith is tested and doubt creeps into my mind as to whether God cares and is listening, I need to look no further than my six foot six inch frame as a reminder that yes, God does listen and He does care and He does want me to talk to Him. My prayers have changed since I was a teenager.

Instead of a laundry list of things to ask God for, I try to spend more time talking with God and listening to Him. Quiet time together, one on one, conversing. As a father myself, I learned how precious time is with your sons and daughters. What father would not want to have a conversation with his child? After my kids moved out of our house and I became an empty nester, the days I would get a phone call from one of them became my best days.

It made no difference to me the reason they called. Sometimes it was just to say hi and to tell me they loved me. Sometimes it was to discuss an issue they were having or to ask for some fatherly advice.

Sometimes they even called and questioned something I was doing. I cherished each and every one of these conversations. The precious time together is priceless. Fathers, I have learned, of course want what is best for their children and we do want them to ask. And I can surely imagine how the same goes with our Heavenly Father.

I also learned much of this from my own father. He asked me once during one of our weekly Sunday night sessions to define prayer. I struggled with an answer.

I thought I knew what it was, but I couldn't articulate it. He sent me to go look it up. I don't remember where I found the answer he was looking for, but when I came back and I said prayer is talking to God with love, he said that's correct.

I'll never forget it. But more than a definition, I learned from my dad how to pray. From the formal prayers and the rosary, I also learned to be unselfish in prayers, praying for others rather than myself, just as he did.

Our family has been blessed over and over thanks in large part I'm sure to his unending prayers. I'm pretty sure my dad's moose prayer had nothing to do with himself, but more to do with talking to God with love about helping others. So this all begs the question, who is your moose?

Who do you want to emulate? What is your moose prayer? Talk to God about it with love. I'm convinced he's looking forward very much to talking with you, and he will listen to you, and he will answer your prayers. And a great job as always by Greg, and a special thanks to Paul in Minneapolis, Minnesota, here on Our American Stories. Folks, if you love the great American stories we tell and love America like we do, we're asking you to become a part of the Our American Stories family. If you agree that America is a good and great country, please make a donation. A monthly gift of $17.76 is fast becoming a favorite option for supporters. Go to OurAmericanStories.com now and go to the donate button and help us keep the great American Stories coming.

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