Tag: prayer

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

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“Faith and prayer both are invisible but they make impossible things possible.” – unknown

About a dozen years ago, a good friend told me a story about her son who was about seven or eight-years-old at the time. Their neighbor’s dog had gone missing and her son was worried. So they looked everywhere they could think of. When they didn’t find the dog, they went home and said a prayer for its safe return. By the next morning, the dog had returned home.

Shortly after, her son was worried about getting a new class seating assignment. He didn’t want to have to sit next to a particular kid. So he prayed about it before he went to bed.

When he came home from school the next day, his mom asked him about the seating arrangement. Did he have to sit next to the kid he didn’t want?

Her son answered, “Of course not. I prayed about it.”

Ah, the wisdom of kids.

I love the time talking with my kids right before bedtime. They snuggle in to bed, we talk about the highs and lows of the day, and if there is a nagging worry or hurt, it usually comes tumbling out.

Then we pray, I kiss them goodnight and turn off the light. Rarely does a worry persist to the morning. They turn it over to a Higher Power and then let it go.

Of course they have smaller worries – but they also have a good practice. One that I need to remember for myself.

We need to empty our cups before we fill them.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Hurry Scurry Worry

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“Enough is abundance to the wise.” – Euripides

Of the things I think about, time and love have to be the top two topics. Sometimes they are separate thoughts, but often time they are combined in the same thought. Struggling with how to love and appreciate the moment, and the dear ones I’m with, when I’m often in a hurry.

It doesn’t help that June comes with six birthdays of family, including Cooper the dog, and dear friends, including mine in mid-June. That’s always a reminder of time with a “capital T.”

On a recent Sunday morning, I was deep in the vortex of hurry worry. This year, my mom signed Miss O up for a youth choir in a neighborhood church.  Miss O has a lovely voice and it was a fantastic activity for her. My mom managed all the transportation, and even took Mr. D along for some of the practices. All good.

But on the Sundays the choir performed, it was a struggle to both watch Miss O sing and keep Mr. D entertained throughout the service. So, on the particular Sunday morning in question, I came up with the idea that Mr. D and I would walk to the church to expend a little of the morning energy while Miss O went ahead with my mom.

Mr. D and I left with enough time to walk the eight blocks, but not extra. As we were walking, I was feeling the time pressure to get there. Enough so that it prompted me to remember the meditation practice I’ve been working on to not hurry. I said a prayer.

When I told my mom about this later, she asked, “What did you pray for? That Mr. D wouldn’t find anything interesting along the way?”

“No,” I answered. “I prayed that we’d have enough time. Then I enjoyed the walk without looking at the time and it all worked out.”

It’s funny. We can either pray/hope/wish/focus on everything to go right. Or pray/hope/wish/focus on being okay with how things work out. The latter has worked better for me.

For another way to stretch capital T time please listen to our Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast: Episode 69: All You Have to Do Is Ask with Wynne and Vicki

Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast will start with someone telling a story in each episode.

To listen to the podcast, Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts. Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Faith in Foxholes

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“In faith, there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don’t.” – Blaise Pascal

We have a family story that has always fascinated me. When I was in my 20’s, my dad’s mom, Nana, told me the story of my dad’s first two years and how she prayed for his life.

Following his birth, my dad contracted dysentery at the hospital and was sickly for two years, eventually resulting in rickets.  All 13 bottle-fed babies born the same week as my father contracted dysentery because the machine for sterilizing the bottles was contaminated. My dad was the only baby to survive.

Finally, at the end of his second year, Nana was exhausted and worried. One day out in the back yard in the weak Seattle sun, trying to get my dad to soak up some Vitamin D, she made a bargain with God that if He would save him, my dad would be HIS for a life time.

My dad got better. And amazingly, he did go on to become a Presbyterian pastor. But not because of any overt influence from his parents who were not church-goers or in today’s parlance, even particularly spiritual. In fact, my grandmother didn’t tell my dad about her prayer until he was almost done with seminary.

I only heard the story because my grandmother told it to me. Whenever I brought it up with my dad, he’d always chuckle about it but he never seemed to give it much credence. Finally my mom added to my clarity about what she thought of the story when she said, “It was faith in a foxhole.”

She meant that my Nana only prayed because her back was up against the wall, not because she had any great faith. And for people who were incredibly dedicated to their faith as my dad was and my mom still is, I think my grandmother’s one-off belief seemed silly.

Mahatma Gandhi said about prayer, “Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is a daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better to have in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” And as someone who meditates daily, I agree that having a practice keeps the channel open and the sense of possibility alive.

But I also think that the Divine shows up whenever we bother to look. And the fact that some people look more often than others doesn’t make it less real or miraculous. God is in the foxholes and then it’s up to us to connect the dots when we get out. As the 12th century Jewish philosopher Maimonides said, “We are like someone in a very dark night over whom lightning flashes again and again.”

What about you – do you think faith in foxholes is real? Or is it only real if we consistently work at it?

(featured photo from Pexels)

My book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s faith, spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

Having Lunch with God

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“Everyone’s life is a fairy tale, written by God’s fingers.” – Hans Christian Anderson

The other day I read the suggestion in a meditation book that we could talk to God, whatever our idea of a Higher Power might be, as if God was our friend. I’ve been pondering it ever since because chattering away to the Universe about the latest cute thing my kids have said, relating the story about spilling water on my pizza, or who I have a crush on doesn’t match with my idea of prayer.

But it has me thinking about faith, prayer, and God in a slightly new way. That is, the one phrase that I hear said to me by my friends, the one that is consistent whether they be new or old friends, male or female, is “you don’t ask for help.”

As is often the case with new angles, it’s led to an a-ha moment — that would likely be the same thing that God would say to me. I’ve long known that I tend towards doing instead of being and am impatient. The result is that I’d prefer to take things into my own hands instead of waiting for the Universe to work its magic.

If there’s a consistent trend that I notice looking back at my life so far, it’s that it’s only after I’ve mucked around trying to make things happen my way, only then do I sit back on my heels and try vulnerability, faith and patience.

This makes me think of Brené Brown’s recap of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey. The protagonist tries everything they can to complete their quest, ruling everything else out, until they finally concede the only way through is to be vulnerable.

If God were a friend, I imagine I’d show up for our lunch date a little harried by life and then after a warm hug, sit down to change gears, and breathe deeply. I’d pick up the menu, only to put it down immediately so I could focus on the presence before me, and remember how good it is to sit in the company of my friend.

Ah yes, God and I would have a good laugh about my proclivity to engineer life and to try work above my pay grade. But then I’d thank God for all the wonderful ways God has delivered amazing miracles and results in my life, even when I couldn’t see it at the time. And then maybe we could work out a signal of when I’m supposed to stand down and ask for help.

If God were a friend, I’d ask questions about climate change and gun violence because I imagine God could provide a bigger picture view that would help inspire and motivate my efforts in the right direction. I would have the opportunity to ask, “How can I help?”

I’d unload the things the things that feel burdensome and heavy, share my recent mistakes that I haven’t quite forgiven myself for, and I’d glean a little insight about myself from how my friend responds.

I’d tell stories about Miss O answering why she got dressed on a weekend morning before she had to, “I want to be ready for the future.” I’d tell about the other night when Mr. D was fitful because he didn’t want to be back from our mini vacation, and in the middle of the night he sat up in my bed and said, “Mama?” And when I tiredly answered “yes”, he sighed and laid back and said, “Nothing.”

I’d remember to turn and ask, “I don’t have a map. Can you help me get to wherever I’m supposed to be going?” And I’d walk away a little bit lighter because of the time spent in the company who lets me know I’m loved, understood, and supported.

Maybe God has been a friend this whole time.

I also publish posts on the Heart of the Matter blog on Mondays. The Journey to Wholeness talks about writing about life from the understanding that comes from the second half of life.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Sunday Funnies: April 30

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A re-run of my dad’s humor cards. They make me chuckle all over again – so I hope you enjoy them whether it’s the first time or second (first posted on 5/29/22).

The backstory: My dad was a Presbyterian pastor for 40 years. He kept a well curated stack of humor cards – little stories he heard, found or saw and then typed onto 5×7 cards. Then he wrote in the margins when he used that particular item. His humor was often an easy way to settle in to something deeper – by laughing and thinking about the buried truth in these little nuggets, it paved the way to an open heart.

PRAYER HUMOR

During the minister’s prayer one Sunday, there was a loud whistle from one of the back pews. Gary’s mother was horrified. She pinched him into silence, and then after church asked, “Gary, whatever made you do such a thing?” Gary answered soberly, “I asked God to teach me to whistle and He just then did!”

One night Mike’s parents overheard this prayer: “Now I lay me down to rest, and hope to pass tomorrow’s test. If I die before I wake, that’s one less test I have to take.”

A five-year-old said grace at family dinner one night. “Dear God, thank you for these pancakes…” When he concluded, his parents asked him why he thanked God for pancakes when they were having chicken. He smiled and said, “I thought I’d see if He was paying attention tonight.”

A Late Addition

I pulled this card out of order of my repeat cycle because in a moment of great frustration as Miss O was trying to learn to whistle this week, I told her the first story on this list. She giggled appreciatively and not five minutes later, had her first successful whistle.

She jumped with joy and then told me she had prayed to God to teach her to whistle after hearing the story. I know my dad would have gotten a good laugh out of that. Say what you want about the theology of it, I believe it settled her down enough so she wasn’t trying as hard. A miracle in any case! (See photos of the week for the evidence of her progression.)

Sunday Funnies: May 29

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Another installment from my dad’s humor cards.

The backstory: My dad was a Presbyterian pastor for 40 years. He kept a well curated stack of humor cards – little stories or observations that he typed onto 5×7 cards. Then he wrote in the margins when he used that particular item. His humor was often an easy way to settle in to something deeper – by laughing and thinking about the buried truth in these little nuggets, it paved the way to an open heart.

When we cleaned out his desk after he died 7 years ago, I was lucky enough to stumble on this stack. I pull it out regularly to have a little laugh with dear Dad. Now when I post one of them, I write my note next to his and it feels like a continuation.

PRAYER HUMOR

During the minister’s prayer one Sunday, there was a loud whistle from one of the back pews. Gary’s mother was horrified. She pinched him into silence, and then after church asked, “Gary, whatever made you do such a thing?” Gary answered soberly, “I asked God to teach me to whistle and He just then did!”

One night Mike’s parents overheard this prayer: “Now I lay me down to rest, and hope to pass tomorrow’s test. If I die before I wake, that’s one less test I have to take.”

A five-year-old said grace at family dinner one night. “Dear God, thank you for these pancakes…” When he concluded, his parents asked him why he thanked God for pancakes when they were having chicken. He smiled and said, “I thought I’d see if He was paying attention tonight.”

These were a continuation of the kid’s prayers from last week’s post, linked here in case you missed them. 🙂

The Next Right Thing to Do

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“Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I’d like to see you in better living conditions.” – Hafiz

I received the dreaded close contact notification last night. My 2-year-old son was exposed at daycare last week to someone who later tested positive for Covid-19.  

In the middle of the night I heard a single cough from him and though he’d been healthy all weekend, my mind was off and racing. I was tracing vectors of sickness with my family, trying to redesign the house to make it so I could both isolate and entertain my daughter, notifying all the people in my head. What I meant was making a list of people to notify but when I typed it “notifying all the people in my head” it also rang true – I had a whole committee up there.

This went on for a couple of hours as I lay awake at 3am trying to control everything I didn’t know, keep people safe from everything that hasn’t happened and mentally grocery shop for anything we could need. And then finally, I landed on the only thing I needed to pray for – the next right thing to do and I went back to sleep.

Because the next right thing to do is clear – cancel everything for today and keep praying for the next right thing to do.  The simplest and maybe only way through is one step at a time.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Checking for Help

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“If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.” – unknown

Last week I was stressed because my biggest client was 35 days late in paying their invoice for July. I’ve been self-employed for 20 years so it’s not the first time I’ve had a situation like this. I’ve learned on my side, I need to make sure it isn’t an indication of a problem with my relationship with the client and work. If everything is okay and it’s just a payment issue on their side, I’m pretty good at weathering the storm and not worrying about it too much.

So I was fine for the first 2 weeks the payment was late.

But by the 3rd week it was late, I’d started to check the mailbox a few times a day and when on one of those days, an envelope came from my health insurance provider, I ignored it and set it unopened on my desk.

When the 4th week started, I was spending a lot of meditation time both trying to acknowledge and dissipate the stress and praying to the Universe to end the wait.

By the 5th week, I was in a low-grade panic – I’d managed to pay all my commitments but I was down to $14 in my checking account.

Finally the payment came. It was only AFTER it came that I opened the envelope from the health insurance company and found that they’d sent me an unexpected rebate. I’d had a check sitting on my desk for TWO weeks while I sweated out the payment from my client.

It reminds me of the story about a man who gets caught in a flood and is stuck inside his house. He prays for God to save him and while he’s praying, the phone rings. It’s the fire department asking if he needs to be rescued. He answers, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” A little while later after the flood waters have risen even more so he’s hanging out his 2nd story window, some neighbors come by in a boat and ask if he needs help. He replies, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” Finally the flood water is so high that he’s up on his roof and a helicopter comes by and offers to evacuate him. He yells, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.”

After he drowns and goes to Heaven, he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” And God replies, “I called you, I sent a boat for you and flew in a helicopter to get you but you wouldn’t come.”

The whole experience makes me wonder if life is simply a process of removing our self-imposed blinders. Note to self: when asking for help, be open to any package it might come in, not just the one I expect.

(Photo from Pexels)

Praying for Rain

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“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.” – Rabindranath Tagore

My friend, Mindy, told me this story about her son when he was about 6 or 7-years-old. It was the beginning of the school year and her son didn’t want to have to sit next to Henry in school. He came up with the idea to pray about it. The next day after her son came home from school, Mindy asked him whether or not he had to sit next to Henry. He replied, “Of course not, I prayed about it.”

I was reminded of this story the other day when my daughter was looking for her kinetic sand and said she’d prayed to God that she’d find it. I knew I’d thrown the kinetic sand out so no praying would help! I threw it out because I’d been praying not to have that stuff all over the floor and I knew how to make that happen. 😊 But it also made me think about my relationship to prayer.

The longer I live the less I know what to pray for. As our overall human and my individual scientific understanding of our world has grown, I’ve found it precludes praying for anything that I know how it works. And the more that I think I’m in control of my life, the less that I pray for things like money or even happiness.

So as I summon my centeredness and quiet as I meditate, I find myself instead praying more for a feeling and connection to the Divine. Praying for a voice that speaks kindness, a heart that serves from its depth and a mind that is childlike enough to search for mystery. I pray for an acceptance of things how they are and eyes to discovery the delight in it all. I pray for arms that are tender enough to hold everyone that I encounter during the day. I pray for ears that are open to listening and a patience to do it without judgment. I pray for a curious nose that can draw me to the sweet smelling things around me. I pray for a feeling of grace so that I face the day from my depths instead of my human fragility. I pray for feet that will guide me to my individual path that I should be walking and the courage to do it.

This weekend my daughter was praying for rain. I thought that one was likely to pan out given the forecast but it turned out that she was praying for rain right at that instant. So I shook the wet tree branch that she and my son were standing under and we laughed and laughed. Then when it really rained, we ran around, jumped in puddles, held our umbrellas upside down and sang. That turned out to be exactly what we all were praying for.

Let It Flow

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“The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen

I’ve been listening to an On Being podcast where host Krista Tippett interviews humorist and story-teller Kevin Kling. He told the story about the moment that tears came after a terrible motorcycle accident. His wife had come to the hospital and brought him an apple. At first he refused to eat it because he had no taste at all since the accident but she insisted. He bit into the apple and it was the moment his taste came back to him. The juicy sweetness brought with it all this gratitude for being alive and he started crying. Tears, he insisted, are a great way to clean out the body’s toxins. And for anyone who can’t cry, he said that’s what sports movies are for.

It reminded me of my young daughter who once told me in a moment of pulling herself together, “I kept my eyes from dripping.” And on the other end of the spectrum, my dear father who’s eyes would leak so easily in his older years. I’m intrigued by all the work we do when we are young to gain composure and then at some point realize that we carry so much, we have to just let it go. Or let it flow, whichever is most apt.

Kevin Kling also described having three different phases of prayers in his life. When he was a kid, he prayed to get things. When we was a young adult, he prayed to get out of things (like the time he stowed away on a boat). Now, after the accident, all his prayers are of thankfulness.

I think about my own inflection points and the most recent is having kids. Before I had them, even as I was pregnant with my first, I worried about what everyone else would think and I assumed it was a story that I was not able to find a husband and so had to do it alone in my 40’s. Now that I’ve had them, I’m too smitten with them and too busy to worry about that. But what I notice most is that each period of growth has brought a new vibration so that it does change what I pray, think and talk about. I’m slowly discovering life seems to be as deep as I make it and the more I wade in, the richer it gets.