I’m a member of a Grandfathers’ Group. After the first year or so of our life as a group, the conversation turned from what grandfathering meant to us and helping one another be there for our grandkids to aging.

The underlying question was: “To what degree do we base our understanding of our worth on our physical vitality?” The answer was: “Quite a bit.” But at the same time we recognized that there was an increased understanding of ourselves and life that came along with physical attrition. The years were increasing our wisdom.

There probably are some men in the world who have both wisdom and vitality but we were hesitant to claim to be among them. No one of us would give up what vitality we have or complain about our physical prowess and victories of previous years. That was all fun and, playing in the right leagues now, still can be. But we recognized in ourselves a pride in our physical vitality that hindered wisdom.

Wisdom depends upon humility for its incubation and aging is good at generating humility.

At a recent meeting after a summer apart, we shared wrenching stories of cancer in our lives, in us and loved ones, that brought us to deep places. As you can imagine, our mutual affection was kindled and humility increased. Not surprisingly I suppose, although we have diverse faith perspectives, we began talking about prayer.

A key question was: “What do I have the right to pray for? If there is a God, who am I to ask for what I want?” Most of us felt more comfortable asking for generalities rather than specifics.

Asking for specifics was risky. It is too easy to measure the results. What does it mean if what happens isn’t what we asked for? Has God, if there is a God, rejected our pleas, or, worse yet, abandoned us and our loved ones? There is also the risk of a blow to our pride if our specifics aren’t realized. Have we made fools of ourselves before an indifferent or non-existent God?

What does wisdom counsel about prayer? Through shared compassion and sharing of experiences, we found ourselves reframing our understanding of prayer. Could it be that prayer is about relationship with God more than something like a letter to Santa Claus or an appeal to an all-powerful monarch? Could it be that prayer, like all healthy and grace-filled relationships, is about truth telling and trusting, patience and listening?

One member of our group made a connection that illustrated our deepening understanding. He told of a retreat he and his wife had gone on years ago for couples wanting to enrich their sexual relationship. The learning was that it was good for each partner to ask for what he or she wanted from the other. Respecting the uniqueness and backgrounds of one another, the partners may or may not be able to comply, but the intimacy of the conversation, the mutual respect upon which it was based, the freedom to express oneself were more what love is about than getting one’s way.

We began to understand that prayer isn’t about control, ours or God’s. It is more about a relationship with Love in which we tell our truth, face mortality and ask for life. It is telling the truth to God about what we are afraid of, what we want, what we are feeling, including our anger at the situation and at God. And God, blessed be God’s name, answers.

The grandfathers will meet again in a month or so and report back to each other about our prayers and our loved ones and ourselves, about answers or the apparent lack of them and, blessed by our relationships, we will increase in wisdom.