Of God, kids, dogs and football matches…

God and I haven"t always seen eye to eye. He spoiled a lot of fun in my youth and the fact that neither of us was too fussy about the type of some of the friends we knocked around with didn"t always help our relationship either.Happily I now feel that The Almighty and myself have reached an understanding based on the fact that little on this earth is simply black or white, so we do the best we can and get on with it. As I wrote in my book, 'If Ever a Man Suffered' (which incidentally is still selling well and only this week I shipped out orders to England, America and Days" Bazaar in Mullingar) the last thing I do before bed is thank God for today. This helps to keep priorities in check. Like many, I suppose, I only pray hard when I want something, but I never devalue prayer by asking for anything other than the health of my family.Dear oh dear - this was intended to be a light-hearted look at prayer - so let"s get on with it! Recently I found myself having a chat with some high profile GAA people and the talk came up about Westmeath"s historic breakthrough in 2004. Varying reasons were put forward by non-Westmeath former greats for that one-off success; such as our minor win in 1995 or the U-21 All-Ireland win of 1999. The Paidi factor was mentioned of course, as was the work done by Luke. Then I asked the question; 'Who is to say that it wasn"t my deal with God whereby I undertook to walk to Croke Park for penance which did it?' Nobody argued against - although one guy pointed out that it was Keane and Dolan who got the All-Stars and not God and Comaskey! But, who is to say …!I want to tell you a little story, which is my favourite story of all time, of a child"s prayer being answered. This column has been known to exaggerate the odd report in the past, but as God is my judge, the following account is word for word as it happened.I was a full-time farmer at the time - the 'poor but happy' bit. We had this fantastic working collie bitch called 'Blackie.' Blackie was lucky to be alive as she came to us after my friend Phillip Conroy found her almost dead when she became trapped in the root of a tree. Even though Blackie worked extremely hard she nevertheless found time to do a bit of socialising. Friendly and trusting to a fault it was little wonder that poor Blackie found herself pregnant and left on her own to care for sextuplets. I gave five of them away as soon as they were old enough to leave home and the pick of the litter was given to our then eight year old daughter, Olga. The lively pup was christened 'Ace' by Olga and between herself and Blackie the new addition was over-fed and over-pampered. He was noticeably overweight - but both mothers loved him as only mothers can.Then one evening Ace was gone. Olga spent the whole evening outside calling for her dog and eventually went to bed crying herself to sleep. After they left for school next morning, I spent most of the day searching for the pup without success. I believed somebody had stopped a car and stolen the lovely fluffy pup. Days passed and Olga spent every evening round the yard and garden calling, 'Here Ace … here Ace ...' A week elapsed and as I passed by Olga"s bedroom door while she prepared for bed, there she was on her knees praying; 'Please God, will you send Ace home to me.' Another week passed and Olga said the same prayer every night.I went into her room and hugged her; 'Olga, God is not going to send Ace back; Ace is gone for good. My daughter looked me straight in the eye, with a look almost of disdain: 'God will find Ace for me because Mammy (also her teacher) told us in school that we can pray for whatever we want and if it"s for our own good God will give it to us and Ace is for my own good.' This assertion concluded in more tears. Next evening same thing: 'Here Ace' … and 'Please God find my doggie.' The dog was now three weeks gone but Olga"s faith never faltered. And then it happened!!Afterwards when I thought about it I had noticed that when I called Blackie she often came out of Harris" Wood, at the back of our house and that she would be wet and muddy, but I thought little of it at the time. It was past 10pm when Olga came running from her bedroom: 'I hear Ace … I hear Ace outside', she cried. 'It"s a dream she"s having', said Pamela, but Olga ran out the back door, as I turned on the outside light. Now I thought it was I who was dreaming. There in the yard was Blackie, wagging her tail beside the thinnest pup you ever saw wearing Ace"s head. Both dogs were muddy and dishevelled. What it appears to have happened is that the pup had wandered into the wood three weeks earlier and fell into a ditch or drain. He was either trapped or too fat to climb out and was too heavy for Blackie to extricate him. Blackie went down to her son every day with milk until he lost enough weight to get out of whatever hole he was trapped in.Twenty eight years later the picture is as clear in my head as if it were yesterday. My mother had arrived over in the midst of all the shrieking and shouting and she and Ian stand there embracing. Pamela is crying. Ace is eating a big dish of food I gave him. Olga, still in her nightdress is down on her hunkers with her arms around Blackie"s neck and she kissing her.Then she looks up at me triumphantly and says; 'God showed Blackie where Ace was so that I would get him back.' I dropped on one knee to hug my daughter saying; 'Olga, you were right all along and I was wrong.'And just like the Delaney Cup, who is to say that this isn"t the way it happened?!!Don"t forgetIt may be hard to believe in God, but it"s much harder not to believe in him.