Category Archives: Prayer

Shelter, Peace, Sleep

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Shelter me under the protection of your wings that I may lie down in peace and sleep.

May I lie down in peace, Lord Jesus. It’s time to give the day back to you. If I hold onto the day, I’ll keep its problems and joys, and they will keep me up. Tomorrow isn’t here yet and today is gone. It’s in this in-between place that I will find peace.

May I sleep, Lord Jesus. It isn’t just the day’s events that keep me up; sometimes it’s scary dreams or monsters hiding under the bed and in the closet. Let me close my eyes and sleep, giving you my unconscious fears. What I imagine in the dark can be so much worse than what is there.

Shelter me under the protection of your wings, Lord Jesus. The world is so big and I am so small. Keep me safe at your side. Keep me so close that all I see and feel is you. Amen

A Prayer for Children

Lord Jesus Christ, you received the children who came to you, receive also from the lips of your child this evening prayer. Shelter me under the protection of your wings that I may lie down in peace and sleep. Awaken me in due time that I may glorify you, for you alone are good and love all people.

Prayer from Daily Prayers for Orthodox Christians (N. Michael Vaporis, ed.; Hellenic College/Holy Cross Greek School of Theology, trans; Brookline, Massachusetts: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1986, 2010 reprint), pp. 19, 23 See “Prayers At Night” for more in this series.

Accepting Children

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Lord Jesus Christ, you received the children who came to you, receive also from the lips of your child this evening prayer.

She came skipping up to me in front of the musical staircase yesterday, an almost two year old girl in sparkly ruby slippers. Brown hair, big smile, holding a neon green cup.

“I can count! See the six over there?” Numbers and letters were flashing on the Museum of Science’s electronic events board. This little girl was certain I’d love to be part of her world, sixes and all. And she was right. It’s a miracle to be included in a child’s life, even in such a glancing way. A few words, a little dance, an offer to share her water was what she brought; through these things she gave herself.

A few minutes after she came, the little girl skipped away. She headed off to the Discovery Center with her mother while I climbed the stairs with my husband and a couple of teenagers.

How did that little girl know I’d listen, accepting her words, her world, her? One of the gifts of toddlerhood is the sure ability to know the difference between those who welcome them and those who pretend to.

Prayer is the same. Children come to Jesus because they know Jesus welcomes them. Their words are acceptable to him because they are acceptable to him. It’s too bad such an obvious and holy truth is often lost with the baby teeth.

Lord Jesus Christ

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A few years back, a dear friend’s son almost died in car wreck. Teenage inexperience, late night darkness, and a bad intersection came together to mangle the car and injure a brain. The late night call from police, an ambulance driver’s choice to take the boy to a bigger hospital rather than the small one around the corner, his parents joined by church youth and adults to keep vigil in the waiting room came together to throw a lifeline to a boy who should have died but didn’t.

When we next saw our friend, he talked about the prayers that were said for his son. The adults prayed for strength, comfort, and – if it be thy will, O God – healing. There was a lot of hedging, not wanting to ask what was most desperately wanted: life instead of an early death.

The teens took a different approach. Gathered in the waiting room and around his bed, they asked for what they wanted: life for their friend. There was no hedging, just explicit requests. With a life on the line, they gave Jesus no wiggle room and no escape route. Either the prayers were answered with a yes, or they were answered with a no. It’s what was on the hearts of everyone, and the youth owned up to it directly.

There are many reasons why those of us with more than a few years of life pray without specifics; God’s presence and love cannot be reduced to one particular outcome, a larger perspective can let go of particulars, a willingness to cling to God no matter the outcome. But it may just be a lack of courage – hiding true wants in the hope that we won’t lose a child and faith all at once. And so we pray God, Lord Our God, Maker of the Universe, titles and impersonal addresses that in our distress allow us to keep our distance from the God who created us.

Children at prayer talk to the God they know – Jesus who welcomes children and feeds the hungry: the baby who was born in a barn, the boy who got left behind on a family trip, and the man who touched people when they needed help. They pray Lord Jesus Christ.

After five decades of life, I pray to Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit. No longer limited to one or the other (or the third), and fast losing a preference for one over the other two. I’m also trying to pray what’s on my heart rather than what I think I should pray. Letting Go and Holding Fast at the same time…

A Prayer for Children

Lord Jesus Christ, you received the children who came to you, receive also from the lips of your child this evening prayer. Shelter me under the protection of your wings that I may lie down in peace and sleep. Awaken me in due time that I may glorify you, for you alone are good and love all people.

A Prayer for Adults

Lord our God, whatever sins I have committed this day, in word, deed or thought, forgive me, for you are good and love all people. Grant me a peaceful and undisturbed sleep. Protect me from every abuse and plot of the evil one. Raise me up in due time that I may glorify you, for you are blessed, together with your only begotten Son, and your all holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.

when ready for sleep, say:

Under the protection of your wings I shall be covered and fall asleep, for in you only, Lord, does my hope lie.

All Prayers are from Daily Prayers for Orthodox Christians (N. Michael Vaporis, ed.; Hellenic College/Holy Cross Greek School of Theology, trans; Brookline, Massachusetts: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1986, 2010 reprint), pp. 19, 23

 

Prayers at Night

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The days are ending earlier than they were in June. The fireflies are out by seven o’clock, just as the Wareham Gatemen begin playing baseball down the street; by eight, my home and yard are in shadow, and the baseball game only continues because the floodlights make it possible. TV screens glow in houses on my street, and animal noises take back the neighborhood. Soon it will be time to give the day back to God, close my eyes, and fall asleep…

A Prayer for Children

Lord Jesus Christ, you received the children who came to you, receive also from the lips of your child this evening prayer. Shelter me under the protection of your wings that I may lie down in peace and sleep. Awaken me in due time that I may glorify you, for you alone are good and love all people.

A Prayer for Adults

Lord our God, whatever sins I have committed this day, in word, deed or thought, forgive me, for you are good and love all people. Grant me a peaceful and undisturbed sleep. Protect me from every abuse and plot of the evil one. Raise me up in due time that I may glorify you, for you are blessed, together with your only begotten Son, and your all holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.

when ready for sleep, say:

Under the protection of your wings I shall be covered and fall asleep, for in you only, Lord, does my hope lie.

All Prayers are from Daily Prayers for Orthodox Christians (N. Michael Vaporis, ed.; Hellenic College/Holy Cross Greek School of Theology, trans; Brookline, Massachusetts: Holy Cross Orthodox Press, 1986, 2010 reprint), pp. 19, 23

What We Hand Down

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My sons got their summer reading assignments a few days back; Colin and the rest of the seniors will read The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho, Alan R. Clarke, trans.; New York: HarperCollins, 1993) while Jared and the incoming 8th graders will read The Contender (Robert Lipsyte; New York: Harper Collins, 2003, reissue of the 1967 novel). They’ll have a home on our tilted, currently-being-read bookshelf for the next few weeks. When Colin is done with The Alchemist, it will return to its usual spot until I reread it in another year or so. The fate of Jared’s book is yet to be determined. If he loves it, it will stay; if he couldn’t care one way or the other, it will go to the library. Only what’s really valued remains in our family collection – everything else is released, finding a life in someone else’s hands and heart.

Words are important, holy even. A book, a poem, a saying, a song can change our inner worlds and the outer worlds we call home. The words that transcend their particular time and place earn the title classic, or the adjective masterpiece. Libraries all over the world offer these to their borrowers because in some indescribable way they enrich human life through their beauty and truth. These words that touch the best part of us, they are our verbal inheritance and our linguistic legacy – gifts from the past for our present, handed down from us to the future. Who we were, who we are, who we will be: all these found in the words, in the books, in the countless libraries.

There’s a library handed down in almost every time and place, such a common experience in this literate age that we take no note of it. It’s a collection, sometimes collections, of our encounters with God and neighbor. It’s a record of mistakes and tragedy, a song of praise and beauty and gratitude for the blessings of life. Sometimes it’s poetry, prose, history, and personal letters; it’s available in all kinds of languages and in all kinds of cultures. Extraordinary and common. Whether Buddhist, Hindu, Jewish, Muslim, or Christian, sacred scripture is handed down. It’s the deepest expression of our longing for God and our love (or lack of love) for one another, handed down in paperback and hardcover, downloaded on a Kindle or heard on tape.

For whatever reason, we often think of this library as a single book – impressive and weighty, but not particularly helpful. Such a tragedy to have the library of the soul at our fingertips, freely given but rarely opened…

ottableofcontentsPerhaps that’s the biggest lesson a library can teach: all the voices of the past, in all the words of today, have no power to transform us and our world unless we delve into them. All the voices of the present will have no power to bless future generations unless we hand them down.

Pumpkins, Weeds

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IMG_3838The pumpkins seeds the Tabor teens planted on a cool April morning are now plants with huge leaves and dozens of light orange blossoms. Nine green and growing pumpkins are attached to the several vines that began at the back of the library garden and now flow several feet beyond its border.

In another part of the learning garden, crab grass is trying to choke the life out of pansies and peppers. Sunny days and timely rain fall on the just and unjust alike – feeding the weeds as well as the flowers and vegetables.

I spend a couple of hours each week pulling weeds and tending the pumpkin patch. Both sections of the garden are full of life – one full of unwanted growth, the other overflowing with more bounty than I’d ever imagined.

When the weeds are pulled, I drop them in my blue bucket and haul them to the compost pile at the far corner of the library grounds. They join the grass clippings, decomposing leaves, and shrub trimmings. They aren’t much good at the moment, but in time they will break down into a compost that will nourish the garden – fertilizer that strengthens rather than weeds that weaken. Nothing is useless, nothing forever a weed.

I hope the same may be true of the weedy selfishness and choking ignorance that grow in my heart…

M.A.R.

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It’s short for Municipal Appropriation Requirement, and it’s what makes a public library public rather than private. The idea: what is important shouldn’t be left to chance or to the capricious generosity of private patrons. Because a library provides a necessary service for its town, it should be adequately funded through the town government. When a Massachusetts town funds its library properly – providing funding for materials, staff, and adequate hours of operation – it meets its M.A.R. and is certified by the state.

With certification, the local town library becomes the doorway into a whole system of lending libraries. Teachers borrow materials for their classrooms, students get free copies of required books, and avid readers check out the latest Dan Brown novel. Movies, music, magazines, ebooks – it’s all yours for the checking out. If any library in the network has it, you can get it through your local library. Membership has privileges far beyond what can be found on the shelves, all for ensuring that the town funds its own library’s basic services.

I think the same is true in life. If I invest in the basics, the whole world opens up. Food, clothing, shelter, and loving support from family and friends on the individual level, adequate town services on the communal one. Many people I’ll never know made sure that the M.A.R. was met when I was a child, opening a door to the world for me. Now it’s my turn to do the same for children I’ll never know.

It may not seem like a big thing – not particularly expensive or headline grabbing. But look closer. The whole world waits on the other side of the door – a way to honor God by honoring the neighbor on my street and the neighbor not even born yet. I’d call that a blessing, if not a certification miracle…

 

Pauses

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The lightning and thunder have passed, and the downpour is now a soft rain. Everything’s plugged back in. The two hour electric hiatus is over.

Aunt Norma’s memorial service was on Saturday morning in Eliot, Maine. My three cousins and three siblings have taken up their routines again, as have my parents. The three hours for remembering and sharing as a family are over.

Not much causes a significant pause these days: sickness, vacation, birth, death, weather, a weekly church service for some. The blue laws are long gone. Society no longer has a mandated sabbath that offers a weekly break in business-as-usual. Only a major happening or presentation puts a comma in life’s sentence these days.

A big exception to this is a library. Walking through its doors is walking out of the world’s busyness. Books, chairs, artwork, and people of all ages inhabit this calm and quiet place. Without raised voices or a show of strength, librarians keep the peace and help each person find just the right poem or novel. The only quick footsteps come as little children find their seats for story time. It is a gentle place, quietly offering the knowledge of the ages to patrons of every age.

For whatever reason, usually I’m unwilling to grow or change without a lot of noise and flash; I might even convince myself that I can’t grow or change without blaring and glaring events. But my weekly walk through the library doors – the place of still, small voices – begs to differ. Great big worlds are beckoning quietly – an invitation to pause and grow hiding in my weekly schedule. It is a place for seeing God’s great big world and finding my place in it. How about you?

Amen at dying

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and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

It’s the way of things. Last year’s hollyhocks died, offering the seeds that sprouted new plants a few weeks back. Sometime soon, the caterpillars munching the maple leaves in my back yard will inter their pipe cleaner bodies and emerge with soft, furry wings. Each of us dies throughout our lives, going from one stage to the next – infant to toddler, child to adult. We let go of people when they die, and they will let go of us when it is our turn. There’s no other door to new life, death alone provides entry. It’s just so hard to go through, leaving everything behind for who knows what.

I accept this truth, and I make my peace with it every time death claims someone I love. In my soul I know that no one is lost to God, even when lost to me, but I mourn all of them. Every atom in this blessed universe is held fast, but not in the form I know and miss. One day it will be my form, this life I know and love, that I must give over to death. It’s hard to imagine when or how this will come, sitting on my sofa right now, typing these words. But the door of death will open, granting me passage into eternal life.

When my time comes, I hope I have the faith to greet it with peace. In that moment, I want to say amen: let it be. With so many people I love on the other side, with these words of saint Francis on my heart, in grateful thanks for those I leave behind, I’ll die to all I know and trust my eternity to the embrace of God.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Double or Nothing

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It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

Pardon me is so easy to say when passing in a crowded hallway or reaching for a salt shaker and nearly impossible to utter when real hurt or damage has been done (Is it because someone refusing to pardon a passing stranger or outstretched arm commits a bigger offense?). How do I ask for forgiveness when the damage is profound or even irreparable? The unspoken words pound the walls of my head and heart, bruising and battering me in their escape attempts. Why can’t I let them out, especially when they are the only reparation I can make for the harm I’ve done?

When I’m on the receiving end of this pain equation, I have no trouble getting words out; the question is, what words will I release into the world? Speak to send the pain I feel into the heart and soul of another, or speak to release us both from pain given and received? Retribution or restoration spoken and heard: the choice is mine.

I know pardon given and received opens the door to a blessing built for two, damager and damaged, even in tragic circumstances. Pardon unrequested and unrequited bars the door. It’s double or nothing: the door is too big to admit an either/or blessing.

Lord, Make me an instrument of Thy Peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

This prayer is attributed to Saint Francis. He was born in 1181 or 1182 into a wealthy family in Assisi, Umbria. He grew up in comfort, turned into a rowdy youth, and eventually looked for glory on the battlefield. His life plan altered when he encountered God. In prayer, he heard God tell him to rebuild the church. He devoted himself to a life of prayer, poverty and service. He is the founder of the Order of Friars Minor (OFM), usually called the Franciscans. He died in 1226 after a life of prayer, poverty, and service. His life, work, and words have inspired countless numbers of people.