When I was a child, I really wanted a dog (or five). The greatest injustice in my young life was that my dad is allergic, my mom doesn't like dogs, and I couldn't have one. Every year I tried to get around my parents' reasons. I would ask for a dog for Christmas. I would promise to take care of it. I would show how responsible I was by offering to take care of neighbors' dogs (hey, it worked for Arthur the aardvark). But nothing worked. In frustration, I yelled at my parents. "If I were blind, you'd let me have a seeing eye dog, wouldn't you?!" Yes, they would.
From that time on, I prayed diligently that I would be made blind so that I could get a dog. My sight seemed a small price to pay for having a dog, plus the dog would not only be a faithful companion, it would also show me around so it wouldn't really matter. And, as an extra bonus, I didn't even know anybody else that was blind. I would be so unique!
Suffice it to say, sensitivity was not one of my strong points as a child. Nor, apparently, was praying for appropriate things.
