For a while now, I’d describe my prayer life as “mediocre” or maybe even “dry.” I wouldn’t be so dramatic as to call it a dark night of the soul (I am no St. Teresa of Calcutta or St. John of the Cross after all), but it’s been ….blah. I’m blessed to be surrounded by faith-filled friends and coworkers, and to have had great mentors in the Faith throughout my college years, but those years were…well longer ago than I’d like to admit. Now each day is spent juggling work, four kids, my marriage, extracurriculars, and a house to clean. I don’t have the time to devote to diving into my faith as much as I’d like. There isn’t time for deep pondering and there sure is a shortage of quiet moments for prayer. So I did what I thought I was supposed to do – I scheduled prayer time into my schedule. I made routine commitments on Hallow and I resolved to do all the things to reignite my prayer life – a daily Rosary, time with scripture, reflections from those scholars much wiser than I – and it all became an obligation.
I was checking off prayer like a to-do list; a way to show how committed I was by simply doing (how very Martha of me) and not as a conversation. No wonder I was getting nothing from it.
God works in mysterious ways, they say. One day, while the furthest from prayer – trying to have a meaningful, collaborative conversation at work and finding myself unable to get a word in edgewise and being talked to rather than with – I found myself FRUSTRATED. I was so exhausted from just trying to be heard and feeling as though I was owed an apology. And guess what? I stayed that way because I’m human and sometimes I need God to set me straight.
I remained frustrated for days. I went through the motions – kids off to school, getting the work done, vacuuming the living room, daily Rosary, bedtime. I rushed about, even rushing to Mass Sunday morning, still disgruntled. And there, sitting my usual pew with a two year old on my lap and a four year old trying to join him, I zoned out and drifted back to that infuriating conversation – and I was hit with a ton of bricks. This is what I had let my prayer life become. I was talking at Jesus, never with Him. I was getting nothing out of my prayer life, because I wasn’t listening. Nothing productive and meaningful could come from that. I knew that first hand. So that apology I wanted after I was talked at came out of my lips instead – to the Lord. I’m so sorry I relegated you to a to-do list.
I still struggle to pray. It often still does feel like an obligation. But we’ll get there. I’ve tried to focus less on the specific prayers, times etc. and bring the Lord right into what I’m doing: picture Him next to me as I review spelling words with my daughter or pick my son up from wrestling practice. It’s hard, especially for my type-A personality which would rather have it color-coded into my planner, but I’m stretching, and growing and starting to feel like this prayer life might actually be alive.
