Prayer Makes Me Grow

When Nana came in with a bowl of grapes, she paused. “Oh, Mina. What happened?”

Mina opened her mouth, but the words tangled. She wanted to say, I’m upset, I’m worried, I don’t want it ruined. Instead she blurted, “Eli was here. Maybe it got pushed.”

Eli’s eyebrows lifted. “I was sitting right there,” he said, pointing at his spot. “I didn’t even get up.”

Nana set the grapes down softly. The bowl made a small clink, like a bell. “Let’s look,” she said, and her voice made Mina feel steadier. Nana didn’t sound mad. She sounded curious.

Mina looked at the room. The coffee table was low and the toy truck had been parked near the edge, as if it had scooted there on its own. The notebook had slid under, and the bent corner could have happened when it landed.

But Mina’s thoughts didn’t stay in the room. They ran ahead. What if her drawings were ruined? What if the pages got stuck together? What if her prayers looked different, as if they belonged to someone else?

Eli sat back down, careful now. “Maybe you can just use another notebook,” he offered.

Mina shook her head so hard her ponytail bounced. “No. That one is special.” She hugged it to her chest. “I write my prayers in it.”

Nana’s eyes softened. “Prayer is special,” she agreed. She reached for a blanket on the couch and draped it over Mina’s shoulders like a warm cape. “And when things feel messy, we can bring our hearts to God.”

Mina swallowed. She wanted to be brave, but her throat felt tight. “I don’t know how,” she whispered.

Eli scooted closer, not too close, like he knew Mina needed space but also didn’t want her alone. “Maybe you talk to God,” he said, trying the words like they were new shoes. “Like… you tell Him what happened.”

Mina blinked. The living room was quiet enough to hear the refrigerator hum and the soft tick of the wall clock. Mina could feel the notebook’s rough cover against her palms. She could also feel the worry still buzzing.

“I tried yesterday,” Mina said, surprising herself by saying it out loud. “I said, ‘God, please help.’ And then I just waited. Nothing happened.”

Nana nodded slowly. “Sometimes waiting doesn’t look like fireworks,” she said. “Sometimes it feels like a calm space inside. Do you want to try again right now?”

Mina stared at her bent corner. “What if God thinks I’m silly?”

Eli’s voice was gentle. “God already knows you,” he said. “He knows when you’re scared and when you’re mad.”

Mina took a breath in. It smelled like grapes and toast. She took another breath out, and the air felt cooler in her nose. “Okay,” she said, barely louder than the clock. “But what do I say?”

Nana sat on the floor so she was near Mina’s level. “You can say anything,” she replied. “Tell God how you feel. Then listen with a calm heart.”

Mina’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Listen… for what?”

“For peace,” Nana said simply. She pointed to Mina’s chest. “And for the next right thing.”

Mina held the notebook open. Inside, Mina’s messy handwriting curled across the page like sleepy worms. There were drawings of a little sun, a tall tree, and a heart with tiny stars around it. Some prayers were short, like notes you pass on a playground. Others were longer, like letters.

Her stomach still felt jumpy, but now she had something in her hands that belonged to her. She looked at Nana, then at Eli.

“I’m going to try,” Mina said.

Eli nodded. “I’ll be quiet,” he promised.

Mina pressed her lips together for a moment, then let the words out to God the way you might talk to someone you trust. “God,” she said softly, “I feel upset. I wanted my notebook to be safe. I’m worried my prayers will be messed up. I think I blame Eli, but I don’t want to be mean.”

The words came out slowly, like they were finding their way through a maze. Mina’s voice shook at first, but it steadied. She felt the notebook’s pages under her fingertips-thin paper, warm from her hands.

“I don’t want to stay angry,” Mina whispered. “Please help me be calm. And help us fix this.”

As she spoke, her chest tightened less. The room sounds seemed to come farther away, like they were floating on a cloud. Mina didn’t see anything new, but the worry didn’t feel as loud.

Nana stayed quiet beside her. Eli sat still, his hands folded in his lap.

Mina waited for a calm heart, the kind Nana had said could grow. After a few breaths, Mina noticed her thoughts changing. Instead of only blaming and worrying, she started thinking about the bent corner. She imagined smoothing it carefully. She imagined asking for help.

“What if we put the notebook under something heavy for a little while?” Mina asked, looking at Nana.

Eli’s face brightened. “Like a book?” he suggested.

Nana smiled, and this time the smile reached her eyes. “That could work,” she said. “But let’s do it gently.”

Mina took the notebook to the dining table. The wood was cool under her palms. She flattened the bent corner with her fingers, careful not to crease it the wrong way. The paper gave a little, like it was listening.

Eli ran to the bookshelf and came back with a thick hardcover book. He set it down on top of the notebook with both hands, then pulled his hands away quickly, as if he were checking that it was safe. The hardcover thumped softly.

Mina watched the notebook through the space between the book’s pages. “Will it work?” she asked, even though she felt calmer than before.

Nana opened the drawer and pulled out a small dish towel. “Let’s keep it clean,” she said, laying the towel beside the notebook so dust wouldn’t creep back. She didn’t scold anyone. She didn’t rush. She made the moment feel careful.

Eli sat back down. “I’m sorry it got under there,” he said. His voice sounded like he meant it, not like he was trying to win.

Mina looked at him. The apology made her chest warm again, the way the toast smell warmed her nose earlier. “I’m sorry I said it was your fault,” she admitted. “I was scared.”

Eli nodded. “I was scared too,” he admitted, rubbing his knee. “I didn’t want you to think I was mean.”

Nana leaned her elbows on the table. “When worries show up,” she said, “you can bring them to God. And when someone else needs kindness, you can share it.”

Mina looked down at the notebook again. Her prayers were still there, her drawings still her own. The corner wasn’t healed yet, but it wasn’t falling apart. For the first time since she’d seen it under the truck, Mina felt steady.

“Can we pray again after story time?” Eli asked.

Mina blinked. “We can pray anytime,” Nana said, and her voice stayed soft. “Sometimes after something goes wrong, and sometimes when something feels better.”

Mina took a breath and then spoke with gratitude the way you might water a small plant. “God, thank You for helping my heart calm down,” she said. “And thank You for Nana and Eli. Help the notebook be okay.”

She paused, listening with a calm heart, and the room felt peaceful. The clock still ticked. The refrigerator still hummed. But Mina’s worry had moved from loud to quiet, like a song that had turned into a whisper.

Nana took Mina’s hand. “Now,” she said, “let’s go to story time. We’ll check the notebook after.”

On the way to the living room, Mina’s steps sounded different. The floor was still smooth, and her socks still felt slippery, but now she didn’t feel like she had to fight her thoughts. She felt like she could guide them.

When Nana placed Mina in her chair, she noticed something small: the notebook’s cover didn’t look as bent as before. It was only a little better, but her eyes could see it. Her hands could feel it, too, when she touched the edge. Not fixed completely, but cared for.

Story time began with a soft rustle as Nana opened a big book. Eli leaned forward, his attention bright. Mina listened to the grown-up words, and every few minutes she felt a gentle calm inside her, like a lamp lit in a cozy corner.

When the story ended, Mina stood and hurried to the dining table, stopping only to ask Nana, “Can we check now?”

Nana nodded and lifted the hardcover book carefully. Mina unfolded the notebook corner with careful fingers. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was smoother. The bent edge held steady instead of springing back. Mina smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.

Eli grinned too. “We did it,” he said, sounding proud and kind at the same time.

Mina held the notebook to her chest again. The bent corner looked like a tiny reminder of a day when her feelings were big, but her heart grew bigger.

Nana tucked the dish towel back on the shelf. “Prayer doesn’t only change what happens outside,” she said. “Sometimes it changes what happens inside you.”

Mina looked at her notebook, then at Nana, then at Eli. The living room smelled like grapes again, sweet and bright. The air felt warmer on her face.

One warm lesson filled Mina’s mind, clear as a bell: When you talk to God and listen with a calm heart, your feelings grow gentler and stronger.

End of chapter one. 5 more chapters in the full book.