Lorica

A lorica is a prayer of protection.  St. Patrick had a lorica.  You could write your own, but here is one of my favorite written prayers by St. Francis of Assissi:

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled, as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to loved.
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
It is in dying that we are born
To eternal life.

Happy St. Patrick's Day (ya know, last Saturday); and better yet, Happy Easter!

Praying Aloud

As a child, I learned about prayer first from my parents.  We had family prayer and my parents helped me with learning to pray personally.  I don't really remember them teaching ME, but we would kneel in our living room or in our bedroom, and we would take turns saying our prayers.  They helped my little brothers and sisters learn the things to say to God.  Often for me, prayer time was just a contest with my brothers to see who could say the coolest thing to Heavenly Father.

When I got a little bit older I got to go spend time with my grandparents.  My aunt let me sleep in her pink (!) sleeping bag on the floor in her bedroom.  I liked it better there than in any other place, even though other places even had beds.  We'd get dressed and brush our teeth for bed, and then we would kneel at her bedside and silently pray.  This was my first experience with praying silently, but I liked it.  I liked feeling all alone with Heavenly Father, no one else listening.  I don't know how old I was the first time I prayed next to my aunt, praying at her bedside; but I remember it.  I remember loving the dark and the quiet and my aunt and my grandma and grandpa and my parents and my Heavenly Father.  I've had many sweet experiences praying silently in the car or by the bed or at my desk or in church--and in thousands of other places.

Lately, though, I've found my mind distracted as I pray.  It's probably a sign of age that I can't focus on anything quiet and still.  But it IS quiet, and I can hear people walking around or the TV on or or the washer finishing a cycle or a car coming into the driveway or whatever.  And I'm TIRED.  So when I'm alone (because I still don't like everyone listening in on my private conversations), I like to pray aloud.  Somehow it feels strange to start speaking--why is that?  I don't know, but I think it's like Satan trying to bind my tongue and maybe my heart.  Then I finally begin to speak, and little by little it becomes just a conversation. On my part, it's not pretty and flowery.  My language is still "thee" and "thine", but my thank yous are "Thank You"s and I say things like, "I don't really know!" and I find myself almost begging for things.  I'm not begging for houses or cars or jobs; I'm usually begging for the ability to forgive or to understand or for faith or for Him to watch over the people I love or to tell me what choice I should make.  I tell him about my friends' and family members' predicaments, and I ask Him to give them what they need. 

Invariably, I weep when I pray aloud.  I think that's because of God's side of the conversation.  I always feel loved.  I feel heard.  I don't feel dumb for the things I worry about, even when I know they are dumb.  Sometimes I have a very clear thought come to me about someone I should call or something I can do for someone or something I need to do.  Sometimes my to-do list is something big, but usually it is some tiny little thing like "Get tomorrow's lunch ready" or "You should review your Primary lesson."  It's funny how those tiny little things that are really no big deal feel like a really big deal when you know that Someone who loves you and is listening to you is willing to remind you to do something.

Pray. He is there.  Speak.  He is listening.
You are His child.  His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayer.  He loves His children;
Of such is the kingdom, the Kingdom of Heaven.

My Prayers Are Getting Longer

The "please bless" list has been growing. It includes families we love whose marriages are struggling (4), family members who are looking for employment (3), people we love who are seriously ill (3), and family members of friends who are seeking heaven's help (presently 2). It includes all of our parents and our grandparents and our siblings and their children and THEIR children. It includes our own children (a lot of this!). It includes our own concerns, including housing, employment, callings, and parenting.

And THEN we start the "thank Thee"s. After all of the "please bless"-es, the "thank Thee" list is enormous. We can blink. We can run. We can walk. We are healthy. We are safe. We are wealthy. We have a home. We have FOUR vehicles! We have good employment. We can learn. We have the opportunity to learn. We have marvelous families: parents, grandparents, siblings, nieces and nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We have wonderful, wonderful children. We are surrounded by temples. We have the priesthood in our home, held worthily by 3 men. We have dozens--maybe hundreds!--of friends, neighbors, and co-workers who bless us daily. We have the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. We have the atonement of Jesus Christ. We have the sky and the clouds and the rain and the sun and the flowers and the grass and water and the mountains and the desert and the ocean. And to put a cherry on top, we have a doofus dog who makes us laugh.

Do you ever feel like you could kneel down, and by the time you got up it would be the end of the day and time to kneel down again?