Pondering Prayer

I pray every night with the kids at bedtime. We also sing a prayer at meals. But prayer is among the most abstract of religious practices. Quakers don't make it any easier by doing most of their praying silently and not even calling it prayer. We "wait upon God" or "hold someone in the Light" or "settle into silence" or "seek unity in the Spirit". I love these varied terms and images, but I'm sure it can be confusing for children. Ah well, educating my kids about God is ultimately my responsibility, and I enjoy it most of the time. I feel I'm doing a good job with Bible literacy and incorporating our values (many of which are based in our faith) into our lives.

I have to admit, however, that prayer has been more difficult. I find myself repeating the trite phrases of my own childhood prayers at the bedside with the children. They were fine when I spoke them out of innocent faith as a child, but now they seem weary and rote. When I try to be more creative, I often find myself saying something silly that I don't really mean. The kids don't usually want to say their own prayers, probably because they don't understand what prayer really is. Alas, our bedtime prayer ritual has become what Quakerism has traditionally resisted: an (almost) empty form.

I finally got a clue a couple of weeks ago. A baby was born 8 weeks early in an emergency situation to a couple in our Meeting and a request went out for prayer. I told Brianna about it at bedtime and suggested that we hold the baby and her parents in the Light. I instructed her to imagine the baby healthy and strong and surrounded by a warm light and love coming from God. She was eager to do this and kept at it for much longer than I thought she would. At Meeting the next Sunday, she was interested in news of the baby and came over to look at pictures that someone had brought. I believe she finally found a *reason* to pray, and a way to do it that made sense to her. Unfortunately, I was lax about following through on this opening. I went back to the same old tired prayers the next night. Why? Laziness I guess.

Truth be told, my own prayer life could use some attention. I tried to make time in my morning schedule for it, but it never really worked out. The moment the kids realized I was actively seeking to be alone, they needed me for something every 2 or 3 minutes. Somehow growling at them repeatedly to leave me alone didn't seem all that conducive to a nice conversation with God, kwim? Nevertheless, I need to try again, maybe at a different time. I also need to try again to treat prayer with the respect it deserves for the kids -- to ditch the empty form and focus on finding ways to help my children connect with that portion of the Light of Christ which has been given to them.

Must be a Guy Thing...

Alexander and Poppy "watching" a video together.

Is it just me, or is falling asleep in front of the TV highly correlated with having a Y chromosome?

Walk and Roll

Brianna received some zinnia seeds in a neat little shaker box from my mother as part of her Easter gift. They are clearly not packaged in the northern climes, as the box instructs the gardener to "plant in early spring when all danger of frost is past." Ha! Around here, you aren't truly safe from a killing frost until Memorial Day weekend. (Though most of us live dangerously and plant before that, rushing out to cover precious seedlings with whatever bags, buckets or draping material we can find in case of a late spring plunge into the 20's.)

Frost threats not withstanding, Brianna was eager to get her seeds in the ground. We prepared the soil and sprinkled the seeds according to directions. The wind blew at least 100 of them into the garlic patch. I've mentally penciled in extra weeding time.

The highlight of the planting process for Brianna, and for me too as it turned out, was tamping down the seeds. No doubt recalling my frequent admonishments not to walk where seeds have been planted, she read aloud:

"Tamp down seed by rolling or walking over seeded area." Thoughtful pause...
"But we aren't wearing good clothes for rolling, so I think we should just walk."

:o)

Photo Fun with Brianna

Brianna took about 220 pictures with our portable webcam over the course of a few days this week. Here are couple of highlights:

New law enforcement idea: issue cheap cameras to everyone to catch assailants in the act.

Yeah, that's one of my good throw pillows -- the ones they aren't supposed to play with.



"Hey Mommy! I took a picture of myself!"

Gifts From a Stranger

Today a young man came to our door. He was pale and dressed in a tattered coat. He shuffled a bit as he asked to use our bathroom. I hesitated. I became acutely aware of my children watching me. I was thinking simultaneously of their safety and their spirits, as well as this poor man's bladder. The inner conflict was nearly paralzing. How many times have we talked about the plight of the poor with the kids? How many times have we felt warm and fuzzy as we read the children's Bible and discussed what Jesus meant when said, "love your neighbor"? On the other hand, what about those afternoon talk shows about home invasion and the sly ways predators get themselves inside one's house? On a practical level, how can you say no to someone who really *does* seem to need to pee?

My husband was home and in clear view from the door, and I didn't get a bad vibe off the man, so I let him in and showed him to the bathroom. As he was about to leave, he asked for some money for food or the bus. He thanked us for letting him use the bathroom and sheepishly said that he hadn't wanted to go in public.

After he left, I kept thinking about him. I wondered what his history was. He claimed to be on his way to his mother's house. I hoped she was the kind of mother who would feed him and be a comfort to him. I thought about how our middle-class material security isn't nearly as secure as we like to believe. I could be walking in his shoes given the right (or wrong) set of circumstances. Too late, I remembered the nearly new coat that my husband has never liked much and so doesn't wear. It's a toasty down filled parka. Winter coat weather is nearly past, and I don't know if he would have a place to keep it over the summer, but I wish I had thought to offer it. The coat he was wearing was spilling stuffing from several places.

We gave him only what he asked of us: $2 and something to eat, along with the ability to pee with a shred of dignity. (How can it be in this wealthy country that not everyone has access to that??) We might have given him a new coat as well, had I been on the ball. We also might have been friendlier. Unfortunately I didn't recover from my apprehension quickly enough to respond adequately to this man as a human being.

What he gave us was much more valuable than what we gave him. I got an experience that countered the scare tactics of the local news and the heart-hardening overload of poverty statistics, a reward for trusting in an untrusting world, and an opportunity to minister to "my neighbor" in front of my children (though I wish I had done a much better job at it). Quakers believe that there is "that of God" in everyone. I'm thankful that this man brought his piece of God to our house today. I'm only sorry I didn't give him/Him the welcome he deserved.