write one name on a slip of paper.
I want you to do something for me. I want you to find a small box in your house or office, something with a lid. Perhaps even something you love–a trinket made by a child or given to you by your grandmother or that you bought in Sri Lanka that time you went to Pita Kotte. Or a shoe box or the little plastic container that strawberries come in. All are equally valid and good and right. I'll wait right here while you find it. I'll even wait while you eat all the strawberries so you can use their box.
Now that you have the box, I want you to write one word on a tiny slip of paper. That word is Angela.
I want you to fold up that tiny slip of paper and put it in your box with a prayer, a mojo, a lighting of a candle, a dance, a bite from a Twinkie, whatever you do to make wishes come true, do it. Every day for a month at 9:00 a.m. wherever you are, if you don't mind, take out Angela's name and read it silently to yourself, moving your lips as you read. Then tuck it away again. Angela has a recurring brain tumor. We're going to will this young woman healthy again, yes we are. And we can do it. You know we can.
Thanks to my friend Jodi for introducing me to the concept of a god box. That's what you've just created for Angela. If you don't believe in god, don't shy away. You can believe in sunshine for her. You can put other generous wishes and dreams and needs in there, too. I'll see you tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. Let's have faith in the darkness, in the night.
