I’m a Christian.

And one thing Christians believe is that prayer's really important.

It’s a way we can talk with God, whether it be telling Him about our day or listening to what He might be saying to us.

Though a lot of times, prayer can feel like I’m talking to a wall.

Is God really listening on the other side? Or am I just talking to myself?

But as a Christian, I eagerly want to believe that prayer really does have power.

That God is really listening to me,

And that He really does answer my prayers.

Hands together in prayer.

I’ve been praying pretty much my whole life.

I grew up in a Christian family, so prayer's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.

My pastor encouraged me to pray every Sunday morning, my parents made me pray before we ate dinner together every evening, and I'd try my best to pray before I fell asleep every night.

There’s been many times in my life where I doubted whether Christianity was even true and if God was even real, but for each of those moments, I always found myself coming back to prayer.

I’d ask God to reveal Himself to me, eagerly hoping that God would listen to me.

Even when going to church and talking to other Christians was the last thing I wanted to do, the one thing that kept me holding onto my faith was prayer.

So if you ask me,

I believe prayer is important and that God really does answer my prayers.

“I don’t have to be tall. But God… Please.
Just taller than my brother.”

When I really want something that’s out of my control, I usually find myself praying to God.

I prayed for a good community when I came to Cornell,

I frequently pray for my family's health and safety,

And lately, I’ve been praying for God to guide me in my vocation.

Probably not a singer

—

My brother recently graduated college and ever since February, he’s been looking for research positions for his gap year before med school.

And everyone around my brother has been praying for him.

My mom’s been praying for him, my dad’s been praying for him, and of course, my brother’s been praying for himself.

Mom and Bro make Dad feel a little left out.

But there’s something I haven’t told my family.

I haven’t been praying for my brother.

Not even once.

Don’t get me wrong, I want him to be employed and start making money.

And I want him to do everything he can to start preparing himself for med school.

But summer’s the only time I get to really spend with my brother, and now that he’s out of college, I wanted to finally spend some time with him again.

I want him to get a great research position, but I wish I could delay it at least until I have to go back to college in August.

Same initials means PE clothes can be handed down.

—

When I used to spend every day with my brother, I didn’t realize how precious those moments were.

I’d walk into his room and start jumping on his bed just to annoy him, and then he’d tickle me until I cried.

And there were days when we’d fight so much that I'd yell at him to leave and never come back.

He came back.

I remember Covid first hit during my brother's freshman year of college.

He was pretty bummed that his freshman year had to be cut so short, but when I saw him back home in his familiar room again,

I'm not gonna lie,

I was pretty happy.

He came back. Again.

—

Lately, I've been home alone.

My entire family went to Korea for a month so I’ve been living by myself.

At first, I was pretty excited at the thought of having some independence. There'd be no curfew and I could finally start learning how to cook for myself.

But that excitement didn’t last very long.

I've realized that home without family isn’t really home.

No Mom means pb&j sandwich for dinner. Again.

Every time I walk out of my room, whether it be to use the bathroom or go to the kitchen, my brother’s room catches the corner of my eye.

The lights are off and his chair is empty.

Sometimes, I'll walk in and just lay on his bed.

I jump,

but no one's there to tickle me.

Me and the Tickle Monster

—

My brother got a call from a hospital the other day.

They told him he starts next month.

I’m happy for him.

He’ll be spending the next two years preparing himself for the next big step of his life,

and meeting brilliant people and gaining opportunities he wouldn’t be able to experience if he stayed home.

I’m happy for him,

But I think there’ll always be a part of me that wants to walk into his room just to bother him.

A part of me that wants to yell at him to leave because I know that he won’t.

And a part of me that’s too afraid to pray—

Especially if that prayer means less time with the people I love.

- James Kim