It’s been years since we prayed together,

years we could have grown apart

but somehow didn’t.

I see Your hand in this.

The same hand that formed us,

loud and raucous,

into friends.

No one could shut us up, then or now.

It is time to raise our voices again.
We pray for one of our own.
We visualize her cancer-free.
We project our future — old ladies,
still talking about school dances
and humiliating crushes, together.
It wouldn’t be us without her.

Divine Presence,
bless our classmate,
our friend, our sister.
May our voices have power
as they did of old,
not for girlish gab,
but to make real our hopes:
Heal her.
Heal her.