Everything in life happens for the first time at some point. The first teacher, the first love, the first date, the first kiss. But Margaret would always remember her first prayer. That feeling stayed with her all her lifea sacred love for her grandmother Edith and her first words spoken to God.
Margaret, now retired, lives alone. Her daughter married long ago and lives with her family in London. Margaret spent her whole life in the village, married there, and buried her husband eight years ago. Sometimes she goes to church to pray for her loved ones and light candles.
As she prepared for church, Margaret suddenly remembered her childhood and her first prayer. She had no memory of her parentsthey died in a motorbike accident when she was three. Her grandmother Edith raised her.
One autumn, when the leaves had turned gold and a light drizzle fell, Margaret fell ill.
“You must have caught a chill,” her grandmother said. “I keep telling you to wear a hat. Wet hair, a gust of windthere you have it. Autumn…”
Edith didnt take her to the hospital but treated her as she knew how. The first night, Margaret even grew delirious, her fever high, drifting in and out of short, forgettable dreams. She was eight years old.
In the morning, when Edith noticed her granddaughter was awake, she checked her temperature.
“Thank the Lord, its come down. Maggie, dear, whats the matter? What would you like?”
“Tea,” Margaret whispered, licking her dry lips before closing her eyes again.
“Right away, my sweet. Ill mash some blackcurrants in a cup for you, add honeytheres no better remedy for sickness. Chases away every ailment.”
Margaret knew this wellher grandmother always treated her this way when she fell ill in winter. After drinking the tea, she ate the bittersweet pulp left at the bottom of the cup. She liked it. When Edith had a moment, she sat beside her granddaughter, knitting socks, humming old hymns, or telling stories from her youth. And every evening, without fail, she prayed before bedsometimes even during the dayasking God to heal Margaret quickly.
One evening, as Margaret watched her grandmother kneeling before the icons in the corner, lit by a small oil lamp, a sudden fear gripped her.
“What if Grandmother dies? Ill be all alone.” The thought had never crossed her mind before, but now it terrified her.
She imagined her grandmother lying in a coffinshe had seen old Mrs. Clarke from next door buried just that autumn. Shed been friends with Mrs. Clarkes grandson, Tom, and they walked to school together. Edith had taken her to pay their respects.
The fear of being left alone made Margaret cry. Just then, her grandmother came to her side.
“Whats wrong, Maggie? Why are you crying?” she asked softly, stroking her hair.
“Gran, will you die?”
Edith hesitated. “Someday, yes. We all dothats the way of the world.”
“Not soon?”
“Only God knows. Why do you ask?”
“I dont know Why do people die?”
“Goodness, child. Its the way of things. We all go when the Lord calls us.”
“But why?”
“Thats not for us to know, my dear,” Edith said after a pause. “Nor should we. Live a good life, follow Gods commandments, and thats all there is to it. When the time comes, youll go as you must.”
“So God decides our lives?” Margaret wondered.
“Of course He does.”
“Could He make someone live a very long time?”
“He could. He can do anything,” Edith said, crossing herself before leaving the room.
An idea struck Margaret.
“I wonder what Gran prays for. Does she ask God for a long life? She must. Then I should pray for her too. Ill ask God to let Gran live a very, very long time. I dont want to be alone. She says childrens prayers reach Him fastest. But how do I do it so no one sees or hearsexcept God, of course.”
The next day, Edith went to church. Margaret had thought it over and decided to pray when her grandmother was awayperhaps at the shops or visiting a neighbor. The chance came sooner than expected.
“Maggie, Ill be back soon. Will you be all right alone, or shall I ask Tom to keep you company?”
“No, Gran, Ill be fine. Tom will come by later anyway.”
“As you wish. I must go to church and say my prayers.”
Margaret watched from the window as her grandmother left the yard and turned toward the church. She drew the curtains so no one would see her praying.
On the little shelf stood a few icons. Of them all, Margaret knew St. Nicholas and the Virgin Mary bestEdith had told her about them. She stood before them, unsure whom to address. The house was utterly still. She settled on St. Nicholas.
“I dont know any prayers,” she thought.
The saints faces gazed down at her, and she felt awkward.
“Here I am, wanting to pray for Gran to live a long time, but how do I start? How do you talk to a saint?”
She stood staring until an idea came.
“If I just ask, surely theyll hear me in heaven and understand. They know Im just a child who doesnt know prayers. But Ill ask Gran to teach me one latershell tell me how to do it properly.”
She looked at St. Nicholas and whispered:
“Please, make my grandmother Edith never die No, waitnot never, but let her live a very long time. Her legs and heart hurtwhat if she dies soon? Shes old, and Im scared to be alone. Give her good health I love her so much, so please help me. Let her live long. Shes kind and always prays to Youshes gone to church again today.”
The words spilled out as they came to her. Her heart ached with longing for St. Nicholas to listen. Then she lay down to wait for her grandmother. Soon, she heard the door open, and Edith came in with a bar of chocolate.
“How are you, my dear?”
“Fine, Gran. I wanted to askhow do you pray to St. Nicholas?”
“The same as to any saint. Why do you ask?”
“Is there a special prayer?”
“Oh yes, several,” Edith said, studying her. “Ill show you one tonight.”
“All right, Gran.”
Edith went to the kitchen to stoke the fire, deep in thought.
“Whats come over my Maggie? Asking about prayers Strange. But perhaps its for the best. I must teach her at least one prayer.”
That evening, as Edith prayed before bed, Margaret watched and echoed some words. When her grandmother sat beside her, she asked:
“Gran, if you ask St. Nicholas for something, does he tell God?”
Edith smiled and stroked her hair. “In a manner of speaking. He prays to God for usfor our health and happiness.”
Margaret fell asleep at once, resting well that night, her fever gone. Just before drifting off, she thought:
“So I asked right. Gran will be healthy and live a long, long time. It will be so.”
She slept soundly till morning, dreaming of a tall, white-bearded old man in robes, a cross on his chest, holding an open book. He smiled at her with warmth and kindness.
When she woke, she felt well againlight, calm, and peaceful.
“They heard me in heaven. Gran will live a very long time.”
Just then, Edith came in, smiling.
“How are you, dear?” She touched Margarets forehead. “No fever, but lets check.” She handed her a thermometer.
“Gran, Im finejust like always when Im well. Im not sick anymore.”
“Good. I saw Tom running to schoolhe asked after you. Hell visit after lessons. Best catch up on your schoolwork too. Its Fridayyoull be back on Monday.”
“Yes, Gran. I want to go back,” Margaret said cheerfully, handing her the thermometernormal.
Edith lived to be eighty-eight. By then, Margaret had married, had a daughter, and cared for her grandmother with love when she grew frail. Then came the day Edith had spoken of long agoshe passed quietly in the night.
Though Margaret doesnt often go to church, she went todayto remember her parents and beloved grandmother, for it was Ediths birthday. She has carried that date in her heart all her life, along with her love for the woman who raised her.
