I tried to pray today. But it seems I’ve forgotten how.
When I was a little girl, right after my mother turned my bed back and I brushed my teeth and changed into my princess nightgown, I used to crouch on my knees, hands clasped together, head bent, eyes closed and repeat the words to “Jesus Tender Sheppard Hear Me …” But as I got older, my bedtime ritual changed.
I went to a Catholic school from the time I was very young on through the tenth grade. My mother was Lutheran, and so by default I too. I remember being one of the only students that had to stay in the pew while the rest of the student body received communion — because, as it was explained, my religion only believed the Eucharist represented the body of Christ where in the Catholic Church the unleavened circles of bread actually became the body of Christ. And so I sat. And I quickly learned to feel like I was the odd one out.
When I was in high school — again a Catholic school — I decided to go ahead and take communion. I was fourteen years old and being a part something was the most important thing regardless of whether or not He became that piece of dry bread in my mouth or not.
When I was twenty-four and engaged to be married, there was nothing I wanted more than to be married in a Catholic Church. I wanted the long ceremony … the candle lighting … the dedication … the ritual … and so I went through the confirmation process and “officially” earned my place in the registry of the Catholic Church which bestowed upon me the right to marry with the Pope’s blessing.
I will never forget my confession, because at the time I really couldn’t think of anything to confess … (oh, my have times changed) … all the same, thanks to years of Catholic schooling, I was able to repeat on cue the necessary verbiage to partake in reconciliation. And of course, I was able to recite however many Holy Mary’s and Our Father’s that were prescribed.
BUT. But now, I really need to pray and I don’t think He needs to hear anymore predetermined accolades. I think He needs to hear me … yet I don’t know where to begin. I tried to pray when I was blow drying my hair this morning … when I was walking the dog, folding the laundry … but I couldn’t remember how to begin — how to address Him. How to signal, “Hey up there … I know it’s been a while … but I need to talk … are you listening or do I need to be kneeling at my bedside?”
Today’s post is a repost from five years ago — it fit the bill for the Daily One-word Prompt: Bedtime so I went ahead and reposted. Funny thing, for the life of me I cannot remember what had me so conflicted. I guess that’s a good thing. He must have been listening to me after all.