No athiests in foxholes?

When I had a brain tumor, I didn’t get religion on the eve of the surgery, and, so far, the intense need to to see my book in print hasn’t driven me to prayer.  Drink maybe, but not prayer.  Today a ray of hope, an email from a New York literary agent.  He must have liked my query and the opening paragraphs I sent him, because he asked me to send the first 70 pages.  I could ask God to whisper in this agent’s ear when he’s reading my manuscript, but I won’t.

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