Still Learning How to Pray

I sat down this morning read the daily Gospel passage (please note, while this *should* be a regular, daily occurrence for me, it's not, and I am most certainly a work in progress when it comes to being a good Catholic).  The older two kids were outside with their Daddy, and Rachel was playing quietly, so it was nice and quiet for a change.  About halfway through the passage, I look over at Rachel, and she's sitting by the bookshelf, intently looking at a book...one of her favorite past times =)  I can't help myself, so I stop reading my Bible, and just watch her.  I notice how she turns the pages; the facial expressions she has at each page; how she stops at a page now and then, and her eyes move up and down over the pictures; the way she uses her little feet to help prop the book up.  After a few minutes, she looks up and sees me watching her.  So, she gets up, smiles, walks over to me, and climbs in my lap for me to look at the book with her.  I don't say anything..I just let her sit in my lap and turn the pages for her.  She cuddles close to me, babbles about something, and just enjoys being held.  Then, she hops down, says "bye", waves and goes on about her business.  The whole scene lasted maybe ten minutes.  While I was watching her, I realized that the way I just interacted with my child is exactly how Christ wants me to interact with Him!  So many times I try to figure out the "right way" to engage in meditation and prayer, but I always end up making it more complicated than it needs to be.  All it takes for a good meditation to occur is for me to just sit there and look at Christ.  Read a passage of the Gospel, then just look at it...the way Christ talked to others; the words He chose to use; the expression that may have been on His face; the emotion that was in His Sacred Heart; how He used His hands to heal and comfort; things He said to guide and correct our faults.  No words are necessary on my part.  And, if I'm lucky and sit still long enough, maybe He'll notice me watching Him, and He will smile and come sit with me, and speak to my soul.

Got Prayer?

I'm not real sure what it is about summer time and prayer that just don't mix with me!  Maybe it's the heat down here in the south, or the fact that my schedule is out the window, or because I allow myself to be so lazy in the summer because the kids are done with school....ok, it's probably a combination of all three.  Whatever the case, I have such a difficult time keeping up with my regular prayer schedule in the summer!  I mean, I still pray, and think about God and where He fits in my life, but it's very patchy and it's not consistent.  It's only when I feel like it.  Maybe that's the issue, as well...I let my feelings get involved.  I also had a realization the other night.  I realized that prayer is like Prozac.  Stay with me, here!  This will go somewhere, I promise.  I grew up with a father who was (well, still is) manic-depressive, so I know what it is like to be around the disease of depression, even though I've never actually experienced it personally.  It broke my family, and it makes for a few rocky child-hood memories.  I also know that God allows situations and circumstances, both good and bad, to fall upon us for a reason.  I truly believe that part of that reason is for us to use those circumstances to learn things.  And then, it is up to us to take what we've learned and use it to fine-tune our lives so that we are constantly re-orienting ourselves towards our Creator.  What I've learned through watching my father suffer from depression is this.  Basically, he would go through a series of ups and downs...in an extreme way.  The only way to balance it was with medication, but the problem was that he would be on the meds for awhile, he would feel fine, and was actually doing fine, so he decided he no longer needed to take his meds.  So, he would stop, and the spiral downward would begin, and then he would hit rock-bottom, which would make him realize that his only option was medication, which he would then get back on, and then he would achieve normalcy again, and then stop the meds, and it just went round and round.  And this is not just my father...it's very common for people with depression to follow this pattern.  I've realized that I am the same way with prayer that a person with depression is with anti-depressants.  I hit rock-bottom, spiritually, and realize that I can't live properly without prayer, so I'll get back on my prayer life again.  Things will go great for awhile, and I think "hey, I don't need to pray...I'm doing so great...I'm patient with the kids, I'm loving and understanding with my husband, my house is clean...surely God won't mind if I skip my Rosary...just for today..."  Then the spiral downward begins.  It's slow, but slippery.  A little quick to anger here, skipping my husband's laundry day there.  It's also dangerous!  I recently heard about a woman who was dealing with depression, and she said that she hates the fact that she has to rely on a pill to keep her normal...that even her holiness depends upon medication.  She said it was frustrating.  I can only imagine!  The difference with me is that my disease is pride - a very nice side-effect of Original Sin, thank you very much Mr. Adam and Mrs. Eve!  I don't like having to rely on something or someone else other than myself for balance in my life, either.  I like to do things my way, and I take pride when I accomplish things without the help of others.  I like human respect, but God calls me to humility.  And, I know that prayer is the answer.  St. Ephram says that "prayer is the counter poison of pride; the antidote to the passion of hatred..."  I can see the effects in my life when I pray regularly and sincerely.  I like the effects of prayer in my life.  So, why do I fight it so much?  Why does it have to be so hard?  Much like people with depression, despite the fact that I know prayer is the medicine I need to achieve holiness, I just don't want to take it sometimes!  I want to try life by myself, on my own two feet.  Luckily for me, God is patient, and He does not get tired of reminding me that prayer is good for me.  He gave it to me not because He needs it, but because I need it to survive.  So, here I go again, attempting to fine-tune my life and re-orient it towards God.  

And, if rock-bottom doesn't motivate me to prayer, then perhaps this will help:

"He who prays is certain to be saved; while he who prays not is certain to be damned. All the saints were saved, and came to be saints by praying; all the accursed souls in hell were lost through neglect of prayer; if they had prayed, it is certain that they would not have been lost. And this will be one of the greatest occasions of their anguish in hell, the thought that they might have saved themselves so easily; that they had only to beg God to help them, but that now the time is past when this could avail them" 

~St. Alphonsus De Liguori

Gather around, kids...it's time for Family Rosary

Back in the early stages of my marriage, before we had children, I used to envision what family Rosary would be like.  It went something like this:  The whole slew of kids would gather around Phil and I, the older ones kneeling piously next to their Dad, in front of a beautifully ornate, yet tasteful, picture of Our Lady.  The littlest ones would snuggle up with me on the recliner, each playing quietly with their Rosary.  We would, of course, be saying the correct mysteries on the correct day, and no one would ever lose their place.  Then, the children came, and exhaustion reality kicked in.  Tonight, I was laying in bed while waiting for Phil to finish up a few things after dinner.  I started to think that we hadn't said the Rosary as a family since Lent, and since the kids were conveniently jumping on the bed next to me, unraveling my latest knitting project, I decided we would say one...NOW.  So, I send little Andrew to get everyone's Rosary from their home on top of the TV.  Ten minutes later he comes back with his sword, but no Rosaries.  "Andrew, where are the Rosaries?"  "I can't reach them"  "What were you doing?  Never mind...Natalie, will you please go get our Rosaries??"  She skips off and returns promptly with the Rosaries.  Phil comes in after getting ready for bed..."we're saying a Rosary?".  Excellent!  He's on board!  Gather around, kids...it's time to start!  In this particular scenario, the only picture we have in our bedroom is a framed playbill and two ticket stubs from Phantom of the Opera that Phil and I attended our first Christmas as newly weds.  But, if you relax your eyes a bit, and tilt your head to just the right angle, I'm pretty sure you can see the Holy Family in it.  Now, we used to use just regular Rosaries; you know, the beaded kind on wire.  But after many sessions of tears because Natalie's precious heart-shaped Rosary was broken and scattered on the floor, Crucifixes being ripped off and used as swords and daggers, and Rachel almost strangling herself, I decided to get something safer.  So, for Christmas, I enlisted the help of one of Santa's very Catholic elves - Jim from RealLifeRosary - to make everyone a corded Rosary to put in our stockings.  I don't remember now how much these little beauties cost, but they were worth every penny!!  So, we get started on the Rosary.  It's Thursday, so we should be praying the Luminous Mysteries, but no one can remember them (Natalie asks what Station we're on O_o), and I think Rachel may have eaten our card that lists the mysteries, so we go with the old faithful - The Joyful Mysteries.  Which is fine.  It's May Crowning season, so The Coronation had a special place this evening.  I tried to focus...I really did, but Rachel was crawling over everyone, screeching at the top of her lungs at anyone who refused to relinquish possession of their Rosary to her, so that she could wear them all as necklaces.  If you did, however, give in to her pleas, you were rewarded with a polite "ti-ti" (aka "thank you") in the sweetest, most angelic voice she could muster.  Andrew's got his Rosary wrapped around his wrist so tight, I'm worried his hand might fall off.  Then he starts making these karate noises, and re-adjusts his Rosary to bow and arrow status.  By the end, he's doing head stands and tuck-and-rolls on top of Rachel.  Natalie is asking me about every five minutes which bead we're on, but I have no idea because Rachel is using my Rosary as an accessory.  By the time we get to the Hail Holy Queen, I'm starting to get the fit of giggles, and I'm just so thankful that it didn't start until then!  We manage to squeeze in a final St. Michael prayer, and after we make the Sign of the Cross, Andrew, while standing on his head, says "that was good!".  I laugh and say "yeah, it was something."  Natalie says "It was prayer!".  Yeah, I guess it was.  It may not have been perfect, but it was our attempt at family prayer this evening.  Do you think three year old Jesus did head stands during the Holy Family's prayer time???

**I should probably clarify...we do not actually have monkeys for children.  We actually work hard at making sure our children are well behaved and respectful when it comes to prayer; however, life does not always work out the way you want, and every so often we have a situation like this...which always reminds me that it's not me who is in control here; it's God, and if I don't rely on Him for the graces to be a good parent and steward of the gifts He has given us, then our little family just won't work properly.  Besides...kids will be kids sometimes...and, that's ok, too =)

If you give a man pride, he'll probably want some humility to go with it

Like most people, I suffer severely from the illness that is pride (I throw in the 'like most people' disclaimer because it makes me feel better - yet another symptom of my pride).  So, like any good Catholic would, I strive for the opposing virtue of humility (albeit unsuccessfully most days), and especially so during Lent.  The problem with working towards, and praying for humility, though, is that you get...well, humiliated!  And, I'm not talking about the idealistic kind of humility where you are in situations that require you to humbly respond to compliments and say things like "oh, thank you!  Really it was nothing.  I hardly did anything."  When I pray for humility, it always ends up coming in the form of situations where I walk away wanting to put my head under a rock because I'm so embarrassed and completely mortified.  Things that bring me to tears embarrassing.  I'd give examples, but once around the block is enough!  I guess that's really the point, though...*sigh*

My Conscience has Spoken

After all the excitement of last night's game - Oh yes!  The Saints did when the Superbowl!! - the kids and I had a pretty lazy morning.  So, when we finally got up, they were starving.  Atleast they thought they were...so, I headed straight to the kitchen, by passing my Morning Offering.  After breakfast, I headed to the massively over-flowing laundry basket for a knock-down, drag-out fight.  Then, my conscience steps in.  Her name is Natalie.  And this is the conversation that followed:

 

Natalie:  Mom, you didn't say your prayers yet

Me:  I know...I'm just going to put this laundry to wash and then I'll do my morning prayers

Natalie:  But Mom, you have to pray every morning...you have to!

Me:.....

(humility strikes me down yet again)

Needless to say, the laundry is still piled up and the breakfast dishes are wreaking havoc in my kitchen, but my Morning Offering is in Heaven working it's magic and my soul is more peaceful than it was an hour ago, and the kids are actually playing together nicely. 

Now about that laundry....