We are more than half way through our 26 Days to Practice Peace and I’m here to say that the word “pray” gives me the willies. It was difficult to type it as many times as I did. It's not a word that rolls off my tongue; I avoid saying it actually.
BUT before you click away I hope you will stay with me through this one because I’ve earned your trust over the past few posts.
When I was little I said my prayers before bed; I imagined God up in heaven listening to me smiling through his long white beard and wearing his soft white robe. In fact God and Santa had very similar faces in my mind.
At the years passed my connection to religion faded but my commitment to being a better person expanded. I’ve committed myself to kindness, compassion, honesty, love, forgiveness and the most important one for me is my commitment to refraining from being judgmental and critical of others. I haven’t quite mastered not judging or criticizing myself yet, but I’ll get there.
Back to why “pray” give me the willies. When I am in a church I feel so self-conscious and nervous—so many rules, procedures, traditions and protocols. You would think a rule follower like me would love that but I don’t. The perfectionist in me is always worried I’ll screw it up some way and offend the old lady next to me or worse—piss off God in some way.
I also get twitchy when people say they’ll pray for me. I don’t know why I’m so stubborn; my insides say, “Please don’t. I don’t need it.” I just feel weird having people pray for me. It makes me feel like they have passed judgement and have decided that I’m so screwed up and Godless that I had better get some help fast before the Earth cracks open and takes me down to Hell.
Clearly I have some issues. I can see it all unfolding here as I write,
But I do pray—in a way—my way. I talk to “God” I guess you could call it. It’s hard for a pragmatic spiritualist like me to say with conviction that "I’m talking to God" because I would prefer some sort of proof or memo “from the desk of God” to know for sure who I’m talking to, but I do believe there is a universal life force that vibrates through everything so I guess that’s who/what I talk to—but God for short works for me.
When I pray I complain, I cry, I wish, I yell, but I also send love off to anywhere and to anyone I think needs it. At other times I pray for strength, I pray for money, I pray for good health, I pray for my daughter to have a great day, I pray for anyone blowing out birthday candles that their future is happy and healthy. I pray my big dog lives a lot longer, I pray my little dog stops waking me at 4:30 A.M. to go out, but then I suck it up, roll out of bed and realize that I now have to thank God that she does wake me up so I have fewer pee spots on my floor.
I guess I pray a lot. But I won’t tell you that I’m praying for you. I will say I’m thinking of you. I won’t say you’re in my prayers. I‘ll say you’re in my thoughts. Wherever my fear of prayer came from I’m not sure, but it’s okay; I’m certain God, the Universe, Spirit, Whatever, understands and loves me anyway.
So for each of you just know that I’m thinking of you when I read your comments, and I wish you Love, Light, Clarity, Peace, and Joy, and now you know exactly what I mean.