I don't consider myself to be a super religious person nor do I believe in any one particular belief. I tend to subscribe to a smorgasbord of religious substances based on a few classes I took in college and some personal advice from family and friends. Even as a child, we only went to church on Easter Sunday and that was so Dad could hide the Easter eggs in peace and Mom could get her yearly dose of church. Lame, I know.

I do, however, have my own beliefs and during recent times have found myself asking for favors from God. I actually felt pretty selfish doing so since I really haven’t upheld my part in going to church, reading the bible, and so on. I'd usually premise my prayers with a little introduction since He (or She, depending on what you believe) probably didn't have a clue as to who this strange person was, asking for things when she never even bothered to first establish a relationship. My prayers were usually rough going in nature because for one thing, I really don't know the etiquette of a good prayer so I'm sure I committed some sort of heavenly faux pas with some of the words I used.

Ultimately, my crude attempt at praying paid off in that I felt so much better after doing so. In my own way, I was doing all that I could physically, emotionally, and spiritually do for my dad. Plus, when I suggested to my oldest that she should pray when she felt sad, I didn’t feel like such a hypocrite. For me, praying was sort of a way to vent but at the same time a way to try and regain control over an uncontrollable situation.

Where am I going with this blog? Why am I rambling to you about my inner battles with religion and overall lack of relationship with God? This is why:

My dad does not have cancer.

Yep, what was Stage 4 last week is now benign; an “atypical” infection at most. Sure, he’s still sick but he’s not on cancer’s time-frame. The pathologist sliced and diced through five segments of his tumor and could not find one cancer cell. The doctors are not even sure these “tumors” are labeled correctly; they may just be severe inflammation. He has an additional lung biopsy scheduled for next week that will hopefully give us the exact cause of his illness. It’s a much more invasive procedure that will take a slice of his lung “pie” rather than just a taste.

I don’t really want to label this event as a “miracle” when in actuality, it was probably just a grave misdiagnosis. But, it feels so much better to just believe – even if it’s just for a moment. I found that my crude understanding of religion at least made my dad's illness a little more tolerable - believing in something rather than nothing gave me a sense of peace that I can't quite explain. I'm not going to say that my renewed sense of faith will last nor do I know where it will take me or my family, but I’m definitely not going to ignore it. Maybe it’s time for me to start cultivating a new relationship with God so that I’m no longer a stranger just making random requests.