Holy Water Couldn’t Save My Husband. MAHA Wouldn’t Have Either.

On a sunny spring morning in 2006, while my husband, Mike, was showering, I secretly sprinkled his bath towel with holy water I had gotten from a friend who had used holy water from the same source on her husband. Her husband went on to survive his cancer, so I happily accepted the plastic container filled with water from a sacred site in Europe. It couldn’t hurt, right? Watching Mike dry himself off, I tapped into my childhood Catholicism and faith in a benevolent God as I pictured the magic water covering him with a protective layer. I never told Mike I did this. And I still feel guilty that I did. Neither of us went to church; we were agnostics. He would have been very annoyed. He didn’t believe in magic.