Pray in the Shower: Thursday's Reflection

Pray all day.

Pray in all places. 

Pray all ways. 

Today my best prayer time was in the shower. I always give thanks for the gift of a shower--the steady stream of clean water, the temperature I regulate, the feeling of being squeaky clean from head to toes. I try not to focus on the sags, the wrinkles and spots--that's enough detail--but instead to give thanks for a body that has served me well and continues to support the life I most want to have. 

This morning, however, as the water cleansed me, I prayed for the cleansing of our nation. I prayed for all those who are in deep sorrow, such unexpected and unnecessary sorrow. I prayed for those who feel lost or unknown or powerless or alone. I prayed for those who feel driven and convinced of one way being the only way, one thought being the only thought. I prayed that new responses may be found. I prayed for open hearts, a change of heart.

I know prayer is not enough, but it is something I can do, even when I am in the shower. 

Today I intend to pray as I climb the stairs to the garret and pause at the landing to look out at the summer garden. I will pray each time I tap the "send" button on my laptop. I will pray when I sort the wash, and if I iron, I will pray then, too. I will pray before I call Mitch McConnell's office, urging him to call back senators to vote on universal background checks (202-224-2541). I will pray when I bring in the mail and when I open the bills. I will pray before my spiritual directee comes and after she leaves. I will pray as I cook the brats and butter the buns for dinner. I will pray as I walk to the snug to read. I will pray as I enter rest. 

Often, my prayers are wordless. How can that be prayer? Well, more and more I think of prayer as a kind of awareness, the way I try to live my days, the rhythm of my days. A way of being present,  not just to myself and my needs, but to the beat of the world around me. How can that not be prayer?

I pray as I write posts for this blog, and that means I pray for each of you who read these posts. 

An Invitation

When do you feel like praying? I would love to know.  

Touch the Sky and Praying with Bison: Tuesdays' Reflection

I intended today's post to be about a field trip Bruce and I took to Blue Mounds State Park and Touch the Sky Prairie, both in Luverne, MN, about three and a half hours from our St Paul home.


























I intended to rejoice in the beauty of the prairie--its wildflowers, its expanse where one feels and sees the wind, its diversity and its invitation to open one's eyes and look far into the horizon. I intended to share my surprise when a hawk lifted up in front of me and when one of the trails ended at a waterfall, and the sound of the water mixed with the sound of the wind.




I intended to share all sorts of facts about bison, thanks to our knowledgeable and enthusiastic guide, Amber, at the Blue Mounds State Park, where there is a herd of about 70 bison. "I love bison," she proclaimed, and maybe, I do now, too! Buffalo and bison are the same, she told us as we bounced along a rough trail in an open safari like vehicle. Herds are matriarchal with only one male in attendance during breeding season, and each herd has a well-defined hierarchy. I was intending to share these facts and more.

I intended to encourage you to visit the wonders that may exist almost in your back yard. What would someone from a distance travel to see that you have been meaning to see yourself, but haven't yet? I intended to promote local tourism and to give thanks and praise to all those who have helped maintain these gifts of beauty.

Instead, I am compelled to express my deep sadness again because of the senseless tragedies of this past weekend. Instead, I cry, "Oh, no. Not again." 

At the same time I intend to pay attention to the lessons and the gifts of the prairie and the bison and offer them to you.

Just as the prairie grasses reach toward the sky, we can lift our hopes, our prayers.

Just as the wildflowers in all their glorious colors and shapes grow together, blooming in each other's company, so can we.

Just as bison remind us of earlier times when indigenous peoples were the rightful inhabitants of this land, and  white Europeans were the immigrants, we can open our arms and hearts to all those who seek refuge. 

Just as Native American spirituality honors the bison as a symbol of prayer and abundance, we can remember that all life is sacred.

               To honor another's pathway, even if it brings
               you sadness, is part of the message that Buffalo
               brings. This may be a time of reconnection to the
               meaning of life and the value of peace. Most 
               assuredly this time will bring serenity amidst 
               the chaos if you pray in earnest for enlightenment
               and the power of calmness and give praise for the
               gifts you already have.  
                                 Medicine Cards, The Discovery of Power
                                 Through the Ways of Animals
                                  Jamie Sams and David Carson

Just as our exuberant guide Amber invited us to enter a minute of silence as we watched the bison, I invite you to sit in silence and lift a prayer for all who survive, for all who have a chance to make a difference, and that we may each reach beyond our own false limitations and just do something.

An Invitation
What is your intention today? I would love to know.

On My Knees: Another Thursday Reflection

I don't often find myself on my knees, except when I clean the

bathroom. The bathroom is not large and restoring it to sparkling normally only takes 20 minutes or so. 

This morning, however, as I scrubbed the toilet, I started to sob. 
To weep.

The image of immigrants on their knees cleaning someone else's bathroom washed over me. I thought about all those who clean hotel rooms, pluck turkeys and chickens for our Thanksgiving dinners, drive cabs hoping they know where to go, and change diapers for the very young and the very old. They do our dirty work, the work we don't want to do, and they do it in order to be in this country and to find a better life for themselves. 

I stopped what I was doing and sat back holding on to the base of the pedestal sink and continued to cry. I cried for the children and  the parents, all who not only have experienced trauma in their native countries, but now what have we done, but add on more trauma. And we have done so in the name of the law. 

I always thought the law was there to protect, to bring stability and order, but what we are now doing in our country is creating greater instability. This kind of trauma does not go away, but morphs into depression or even violence. Just ask vets who suffer from PTSD. 

Many have written eloquently about this crisis of morality. Many have asked the questions, "Is this who we are?" Well, apparently, yes, this is who we are and will continue to be until we stop this cycle of adding on layers of historic trauma. The repercussions of slavery in this country has not been enough for us to mend our ways nor was the removal of Native Americans from their homes and culture and forcing them into boarding schools nor the internment of Japanese Americans in WWII. Will what we have done now interrupt this cycle? 

I remain on my knees, praying that is the case.

An Invitation
I invite you to fall on your knees, too. 

NOTE: This is a bonus post because I needed to write. I needed to find words. I will take a writing break the week of June 25 and return the week of July 2.