Oh, I get it now

So, last night, I instructed one of our children to do something.

And this dear, beautiful child - instead of doing it - looked up at me with big eyes and said, "I looooove you, Mommy."

And, slightly annoyed, I heard myself say, "If you love me, obey me."

And then, listening to what I had just said, it hit me like a ton of bricks: Wow, I think now I finally understand that passage in John.

Which one? This one:

If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.

Oh. That's what that means. Right.

Parenthood: catechesis for the rest of us. 

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

in-between prayers

I like Holly Pierlot's prayer of "Jesus, I do this for the love of thee," to be said when switching from one activity to another. But that's not the only small, in-between tasks prayer I find myself praying regularly.

The official order of prayers in the prayer book seems to be creeping into my everyday life. The idea of morning and evening prayer is leading me into the idea of other prayers: before-laundry prayers and before-email prayers. Here are a few of the regular prayers I find myself using everyday:

-When I get in the car: "Father, please keep us safe from accidents, tickets, other drivers, and anyone and anything that would harm us. Please keep our house safe till we get back. And may we honor You in what we go to do."

-When I start the laundry: "Father, please help the washing machine to work well and to spin dry." (It's old and cantankerous.) "Please may the dryer work well and not explode. And thank you for these machines, that do so much work for me."

-When I go on the computer: "Father, please help me to do your will online."

-When I put the kids down for their naps: "May the Lord bless you and keep you and give you peace. Breathe, and keep breathing, in Jesus' name." (Okay, that's more of a blessing and a command.)

-When Adam and I part ways: "Father, please keep us safe till we see each other again."


St. Paul said that we're to pray constantly, and in trying to follow this command, I found myself eventually repeating formulas. Over the years, my spontaneous prayers became regular formulas, just because they were things I prayed about everyday. But that's not bad, I think. There are good habits as well as bad ones, and I think this one's good. I tend to worry, and I've found that praying is the only way to handle my anxiety. It's a way of saying, "I'm worried about this, but I can't take care of it. However, I know you can, Father. So please do."

Sometimes I wonder if my prayers are too petitionary. "Please" and "safe" show up in them a lot. But, when I think about it, I realize that the Lord doesn't want me asking anyone else for the kind of help that only He can give. If my daughter always asked strangers for drinks of water, or my son tried to change his own diaper, I'd be upset. God is my Father, and even if His goal is that eventually I grow out of needing to ask him for a glass of water (I want my daughter to eventually learn to get her own), while I'm young enough to need to ask for help with everything, I'm sure that He wants to be the one I ask it from.


So, anyone else out there have little, daily prayers?

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica

Spit-up

Today, while we were at the playground with a group of other moms and kids from church, my daughter, who had been happily playing in the sandbox, trotted towards me, crying.

Crying, and with what looked like foam dripping out of her mouth.

Being the good mom I am, I ran towards her, and held out my hand. She opened her mouth, and a nice half-cup of pink and white up-chuck fell into my palm. Ugh.

But I quickly shook the spit-up off my hand, and into the grass, and proceeded to console her, to hug her, to look her over, and to make sure that nothing was really wrong. Looks like it was just playing a little too hard on a full stomach (we had just picnicked), and pretty soon she was back in the sandbox, happy as a clam. The pink in the spit-up wasn't blood, just jam. Whew. Gross, but any good parent would take the jam, any day.


I didn't think anymore of it till now, but now I'm wondering how often that's how I come to God. I'd like to think I approach our Holy God with reverence and thought and due attention, but a lot of times I come to him because, in the middle of my happy play, something went wrong, and I need someone's hand to spit up in, someone to clean me up, and someone to send me, consoled, back to what I was doing.

I am God's toddler. Seriously.

Someday, I would at least like to be his teenager.

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica