challenges to prayer

Last post I wrote about the changes which inevitably occur in our lives sooner or later upsetting our best plans and intentions to begin a life dedicated to prayer. The “changes” I mentioned were all positive—a new job, primary relationship or baby—but what if the change is something we don’t desire? What if we experience the death of a loved one or major illness, the loss of a job, the complete or partial destruction of a home or property? How do such things impact our prayer life? First let me say, that my challenge or change was only a small one, but even so, it had a major impact on my ability to pray.

Last week I started an exercise program. My husband and I joined a fitness facility in the fall when my daughter was leaving for college; I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to keep my spirits up with her leaving, not to mention I need to have some sort of regular exercise program. I even talked to and set up an appointment with a personal trainer. Then reality kicked in; I cancelled the appointment and I stopped going. I didn’t have enough time for myself ... well I didn’t make enough time for myself, but that’s another story. My husband still used the membership so we kept it open. He's an optimist; he was sure I'd go back.

Last week the trainer called me and asked if I wanted to set up another appointment. I did. We got together and it was great. She worked me hard, but also showed me stretches which balanced out the weights. I went back to the gym over the week-end and did the bike and treadmill with my daughter from college who was home visiting. Then on Monday, I went for my second lesson. I can still see that dirty Kleenex on the treadmill. I didn’t touch it but I didn’t need to. I’m sure the user’s germs were all over the machine. Still I had another great workout and I came back to work. The volunteer who was scheduled to help me was there shortly after I returned. I don’t remember taking time to wash my hands after coming back from the gym. But I grabbed my lunch and started eating while we worked. Big mistake!

The next day, Tuesday, around noon I started getting a scratchy throat and chills. By the end of the afternoon there was no doubt in my mind, I had a cold. I haven’t had a cold in at least two years. I thought I’d sleep it off. I stayed home from work and slept away most of Wednesday. What first amazed me was that I could sleep ALL day. I had no appetite. I had to force myself to eat because I knew if I didn’t I’d get a migraine. My head hurt even so but it hurt worse, much worse, every time I coughed and I kept having coughing fits. Water tasted awful but I drank it anyway because I was parched. My dear husband brought me Sunny Delight and it tasted a little better than the water. I ached all over. I was hot; I was cold. I was miserable. But the biggest surprise was, I couldn’t pray. All I could do was say little prayers like The Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” the Divine Mercy, “Jesus, I trust in You!” and the prayer Father Corapi suggests, “Immaculate Heart of Mary, I place all my trust in you.” I tried to muster the energy to say something more organized but I couldn't.

Then Wednesday at 3 in the morning, I woke out of a sound sleep because my lower back had seized up. My husband said it was because I’d slept all day the day before. I think it was also because of my recent workouts. My trainer had me working back muscles I didn’t usually work. I was also still having coughing fits which were making my head want to blow off and sending further spasms of pain down my back.

So at 3 in the morning my dearly beloved husband helped me get down on the floor with a heating pad on my back and a hot water bag on my stomach. Eventually the muscles loosened up enough to where I could get into a fetal position which stretched out the back muscles. I fell asleep like that. The hot water bag leaked but I didn’t even care.

Today, Friday, my back and stomach are still very sore and I’m having coughing fits but on a much less frequent basis. I feel weak but able to move around. My appetite still hasn’t come back but knowing me, it will.

What surprised me most in the whole thing was that I could not pray. I wanted to. I tried to. I thought about it and I did remember that even to call Jesus’ Holy Name is a prayer. I did do that. But I felt so desolate being unable to pray.

Today being Friday I said the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary. As I got to the 4th Mystery and contemplated them mocking Jesus while He carried His Cross, the Cross He bore for us, I felt this overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I’m not sure, but I think it was a teeny tiny glimpse of the great loneliness He felt when He carried the Cross for us. He loves us so much. And yet when He picked up the Cross that day, He looked into His children’s eyes—children whom He loved deeply—and they were mocking Him. How often do we mock one another? Belittle and tease each other? Make light of another person’s pain or experience? When we do, we also join those Roman soldiers mocking Our Savior.

Oh Lord, help me to remember this small insight, that my challenges are everyone’s challenges and I never suffer in isolation. When one part of the Body of Christ suffers, the whole Body suffers. Help my experienced pain make me more compassionate, considerate, patient and kind to my brothers and sisters. Help me also remember that prayer is the very best gift I can give anyone, but especially those who are sick, because often they can’t pray for themselves.

Best Job in the World

This week my oldest leaves for college. She came in to sit on my bed a few nights ago for one of our talks and as she was getting up to leave she said, ‘You know Mom, you kind of surprised me. I expected you to be really upset about me going away ... but you're not. I think I'm more worried about it than you are.”

After she left my room that night, I thought about it some more and realized she was right. I've made a few jokes about coming to work in black on Thursday—the day after my husband and I drive her up to OSU—but aside from that I'm not feeling sad or fearful, lonely or even apprehensive. Funny, but I always thought I'd be a basket case when it came time for my children to ‘fly the nest’.

I always said being ‘Mom’ was the ‘best job in the world’.

I hated when our years of homeschooling came to an end and my children went to school. I nearly fell apart from confused feelings of uselessness and regret. All I could think then was the good times were over and yet I hadn’t done nearly all I wanted to do. There was so much more I could and should have taught them, done with and for them and now it was all in the past. They had moved on. I was left behind.

What’s different now?

Mostly, I know they still need me, or rather they still need their mother, much as I still need my mom—not in the immature little girl way we do while we’re still growing up, but in the way we do when we’re older—as a most trusted mentor. If we are truly blessed, our parents may be the most trusted guide(s) God gives us.

I guess it can be summed up in one perfect example. Last night my second oldest daughter, Michelle, came home to get her things for a sleep-over with her girlfriends. She was in no particular hurry to leave. She apologized for interrupting the movie her father and I were watching, although we didn’t mind in the least; we were happy she wanted to spend time with “hermits” like us on a Saturday evening. That’s what both of our daughter’s call us because—as they say – we don’t drink, smoke, gamble or ‘party’.

Anyway, Michelle looked rather disconcerted as she told us that she felt ‘too old’ to be returning to high school this year. This is her senior year and she said that most of the girls she’s hung around with since her freshman year are so immature—something my husband I both hoped and prayed would happen three years ago. She described watching and listening to them from somewhere outside the group. I remember that place years ago and sometimes still when I am around certain types of people.

I told her that her sister had said at graduation her teachers were the people she thought she’d miss from her high school days.

We talked some more. Then she told me the nicest thing I think she’s ever said to me. She named her three best friends and I was one of them.

I’m not her friend of course. I’m her mother and that’s so much more important, but I know what she meant. She meant she trusts me and she knows she can come to me with her problems. And as George MacDonald said, ‘To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.’

Earlier in this post I asked, ‘what’s different now?’

There’s another difference. God has given me another ‘best job in the world’. I didn’t think anything could ever top motherhood, or even come close. I thought when my children no longer needed me so much, I’d just sit around and read, write maybe, crochet and be a good little stay-at-home wife awaiting grandchildren and old age.

I was wrong again. God had other plans. He doesn’t waste anything.

He called me into active ministry—not once or twice but three times. Finally I listened and answered.

It isn’t always easy. There are many sacrifices, big and little. But there are also so many joys! I’ll just tell you about one from last night.

Besides being Director of Religious Education for my parish, I also get to serve as Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion once a month, the greatest honor next to receiving Our LORD.

At Mass last night I gave Holy Communion to a very special little boy, ‘N’ who was in my First Communion class this year. He received Our LORD’s Body with such reverence it was as if he was receiving Him for the first time, as it should be for all of us each time but so seldom is. When I came up to ‘N’ after Mass, to compliment him, I noted he was wearing his Vacation Bible school t-shirt.

His grandfather said, “Oh yes! He loved his time at Vacation Bible School, still talks about it all the time, and is proud of his shirt.” When I complimented ‘N’ on how reverently he received Holy Communion, he told me it was his 20th time to go to Communion.

I said in astonishment, “You’re still counting each time?”

His mother smiled and said quietly aside to me, “he’ll probably never stop counting.’

This little boy is rather special in more ways than one. His slightly autistic nature causes him to be teased at times and yet there is something there which also makes him impervious to that which isn’t truly important. I smiled back at his devoted mother and grandfather. School begins soon and then I’ll be able to see little ‘N’ during the week as well as on week-ends.

After my little friend and his family left, I thanked God for this second chance, for this new job which is also such a blessing. How many jobs offer the opportunity to be part of the process of a child's First Sacrament's, facilitate fun at VBS and then witness such sanctity in a precious child of God it utterly humbles you?

Thank you God for not only loving me, but also for entrusting me with this ministry; it is such a great gift. Please dearest Jesus, continue to support and guide me in it. And watch over Your dear Meg as she journeys to college this week. She’s always been Yours Jesus, on loan to me. I’ve enjoyed and treasured every moment as her mother and I pray there are still many more to come.

Day 11 - God Doesn’t Give Handouts

‘Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days. He spoke this openly. Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. At this he turned around and, looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”’ Mark 8:31-38

There’s an old Chinese proverb which says, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”

I’m a teacher. It’s my vocation, my charism; it’s in my blood. I taught my baby sister to read when she was three and I was thirteen and then went on to organize a summer neighborhood nursery school camp for her and her little friends which I ran for the next three summers. I wasn’t going to charge for it, but the mothers of the tots—children I babysat for—all insisted. Still my profits were nil because I reinvested every nickel I made in treats, art supplies and games for the kids. In the military I was a part-time instructor. When I got out it was to homeschool my own children. Now I’m the Director of Religious Education for my parish. What can I say? I love to learn and I love to share that love of learning with others.

Some lessons are harder than others. One of the hardest is this one: God, and your fellow man, are here to give you a hand up, but not a hand out. There’s a difference—a big difference. Ultimately, my destiny is my own responsibility. It is the result of my own choices. Every time something happens to me, I have a choice. I can accept what happens or I can whine, complain, and blame others for my circumstances. I wish I could say I never resort to those childish forms of behavior—that I always cheerfully accept whatever circumstances I encounter. I wish that were true, but it isn’t . . . yet. I’m still working on it.

That’s why I like this chapter so much. I need this reminder. In the next hour or the next day, something will happen which I don’t like. I can focus on those things or I can keep my eyes on what I can do, my next goal, what lies ahead.

My oldest daughter graduates from high school tomorrow. I’m feeling many things as I look ahead to this milestone. Fortunately I’ve been so busy lately; I haven’t had a moment to think about my feelings concerning this event, which swing from excited to sad and from proud to lonely all in the space of five minutes. Last night we went out to help some friends who were hit hard by the May 10th tornadoes clear trees. My house needed cleaning and I was tired from a full day at work, but somehow—with His Grace—I found the energy to do everything. Best of all I forgot about my daughter growing up, graduating and moving away.

Life changes and moves on. Today I went to a funeral—always a good reminder of the brevity of this life. I know that mine is going by at a break neck speed! In the meantime, if I can lend someone a hand up, I hope I do.

And I pray that somewhere along the line I taught my daughter to fish—literally and spiritually.