I prayed with my wife and I liked it.
TLDR (because I love to go on tangents and I'm not even sorry): Even while deconstructing, I actually love praying with my Christian wife because it's very meaningful to her, and I'm coming to realize that it's actually healthy for me, personally.
I was laying in bed and my wife vented about having a sore throat. I offered to pray with her.
Some background:
She didn't grow up Christian. She was atheist, but had softened on her stance by the time we met. Now she's Christian. She's not devout, doesn't study the Bible, she doesn't pray publicly and her church attendance isn't great. She's not performative. Sometimes, I forget she identifies as Christian because she doesn't do all the Christian things and she's obsessed with horror movies, but I know she believes. She doesn't have to prove it to me or anyone else. I used to try and assess if I thought faith was legitimate. I even almost broke up with her early on because I didn't think her faith would meet my church group's standards. I've grown up since then, particularly after deconstructing.
She feels things so deeply. Her childhood was pretty sad, but she clung to whatever fond memory she could. Her mom died when she was 19, and her cat died around the time she met me. She has cancer. While it has been near undetectable for a few years, technically she's not in remission. Depression hits her like a wave at times. Anxiety isn't uncommon. Occasionally, she has panic attacks. Life has only gotten harder for us.
She has faith because she needs something to hold on to. She believes that we'll spend time with lions and possums and bats and anteaters in heaven, and that I'll finally get to meet her mom, who she says would love me so much. This is where her mind goes to cope with the difficulty of her current existence. I love her so much, it hurts.
Even though I'm deconstructing, I pray with her. We pray for every meal together. We pray when things are difficult, uncertain, or heavy. I don't have faith that it'll make things magically work out, but there's something cathartic about vocalizing my burdens into the air. I used to be very good with prayer. I was eloquent, genuine and insightful when I'd pray. There have been several times when I would pray publicly at church and I'd hear people choking up and see some holding back tears. I now know it's not because I was full of the Spirit, it's because people crave authenticity, which is in extreme short supply in life, and rarer in a church. It was one of the few things I was good at as a Christian.
So when my wife complained about her sore throat in bed tonight, I figured I'd offer to pray with her. She asked me to also pray for her dad, who's in the hospital with food poisoning. While I was at it, I also prayed for my cat. I prayed that he'd poop. Two days ago I found some plastic he ate in one of the 20 instances of vomit, so after an $800 vet appointment, his $450 X-rays showed that he was also pretty constipated. We are hoping that a change in diet and some canned pumpkin will be enough to rectify his ailments. I prayed about a lot of other things. It felt good, and I know that it helped make my wife feel better, even if not physically.
I didn't mean to make a case for prayer as a potentially healthy exercise, but I think it's helpful for me, at least. That said, I'm sure there are alternatives that don't come with implied theism. I'll explore that more if my wife gets on the same page as me. Until then, I'm under no assumption that it'll make anything okay, but I'll pray anyway for my bae. Amen.