Category Archives: Prayer

Daily Bread

14 Wednesday Oct 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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“Give us this day our daily bread.”

I’ve carried around this ancient prayer passage  as I’ve attended to the day’s  tasks.

Yesterday I foolishly imagined that today would be spacious, a day without demands, a day to spend however I pleased.  Instead, Max, who is still not well, put me into motion early.  I know Max is very sick because — among other symptoms — Max, who loves bread more than meat, refused to take a bite of my morning toast. 

So Max is spending the day at the clinic, being pampered and treated by a veterinary team that adores him.  Max is always glad to see old friends, though today, Max was counting on a short visit rather than an all day affair.  But with his weight now down 5 to 6 pounds, Max needs a solution soon.  And though we learned the source of Max’s problem on Monday, it’s taking a little effort to put Max back on the road to recovery.

blog_daily bread

Daily Bread for Many Days

So the day that was to be spacious has been full of tasks, included the dreaded monthly grocery shopping.  Other shopping, much more satisfying, took me to two different locations for the purchase of bread.  I buy our everyday sandwich bread at  Big Sky Bakery in Nichols Hills.  Then I shop at a local Vietnamese supermarket for fresh baquettes.  These miniature loaves are the best bread bargain in town at thirty-five cents each.   And from the looks of my bounty, it’s easy to see I went a bit overboard.

I am comforted by the smell and taste of bread.  I serve few meals without it.  But as I moved through the hours of the day, I began to think about bread as a metaphor for other everyday necessities.  Right now and for the next few days, Max’s daily ‘bread’ will be IV fluids, as our veterinarian attempts to stabilize Max’s electrolytes.   For me, it’s a bit of quiet time in the morning, usually with some reading as a source of spiritual nourishment.  Then later in the day, crazy as this might sound, it’s sweeping all my downstairs floors.  It’s amazing how much better I feel about life with tidy floors.  In some mysterious way, clean floors allow me to face whatever else life wants to throw at me. 

I share this same sentiment about Jesus the Christ, who dared one ancient day to tell this outlandish bit of good news to any who would receive it:  “I am the bread of life.”  Just like manna, there’s no reason to stockpile the bread of life; it’s always in my pantry when I need it.

And all shall be well…

12 Monday Oct 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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One of my favorite quotations comes from the writings of English mystic Julian of Norwich:  “…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”

In any day, life hiccups and things go bump in the night.  But over the course of a lifetime, all does indeed become well.

And so it seems is Max, who gave us quite a scare yesterday.  Max is home now, after a battery of tests and after more than a little stress to this poodle mom.  Yesteday the vet had no clue what could be the source of Max’s latest malady.  Today the official diagnosis is Addison’s, which means Max’s body manufactures no cortisone.  Yes, none.  Did it stop all at once?  Was the cortisone spigot operating on Friday noon and turned off six hours later?  That’s how quick it seemed to happen.  One moment Max is his bouncy self; the next a limp rag.

I really try not to worry over that which I’ve no control.  Sometimes this is easier said than done, like last night.  I woke up in the dead of night to remember Max.  And before drifting back to sleep, I whispered a quick prayer.  And even though it was brief, I told God exactly what I wanted for Max; none of this ‘thy will be done’ business. 

I wish I could have the faith of St. Julian that all shall be well.  Then I wouldn’t feel this need to give God a helping hand with shaping answers to my prayers.  Maybe that’s why I prefer, or maybe why I feel I am at my best, when I pray without words.

When I pray with words, I’m slumming.  But not so with Julian.  Her words, like the poets, soar.  And they help lift me up — out of the slum of my own words — to  heaven, I guess.  And God, I hope.

And ushered into the presence of God, with love in my eyes and no words on the tongue, here is the part where I thank God that Max will soon be all well.  God’s good at reading minds and hearts.   

Off-Center Stage

06 Tuesday Oct 2009

Posted by in In the Garden, Prayer, Soul Care, The Great Outdoors

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The days are slipping through my fingers just as leaves are slipping from the trees. 

The Magnolia in the back yard is making a terrible mess right now; its yellow nitrogen-deprived leaves are dropping like flies.  As I reach down to pick up the leaf litter scattered across the yard, I notice houseflies resting on the leaf’s shiny surface.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many houseflies, even at a summer picnic.  What do they know that we don’t?  Perhaps their presence is a harbinger of winter’s too early arrival.

My week is slipping away, with a piece of my day allotted here and there.  I am sad that I’ve no signficant blocks of time to devote to gardening and I’m in a mad rush to get my gardens put to bed and the duplex gardens next door completed before winter descends.  Like the piles of leaves and army of flies, I also sense that a winter freeze  is just around the corner.   And this makes me grieve the shortness of autumn.

Tomorrow I’ll attend my graduation ceremonies at the Oklahoma County Extension office, where I will officially be certified as a master gardener.  Like a true gardener, I joked with one of my fellow graduates that I’d rather be in the gardens than at the ceremony; yet, knowing the day is as much about our faithful trainers as it is about us who are graduating, I will go to eat, drink and be merry.  Then afterwards, I’ll rush back to the gardens for the afternoon.  If all goes well, all purchased plants will be installed; and with decent weather, the duplex gardens will be finished by week-end.

Another fly in the ointment to make my week so choppy is the spiritual writing I’ve been squeezing in to the open cracks of  my day.  After three months out of the saddle, I’ve picked up the loose threads of  this curriculum and Thursday night I’ll lead a small group of faithful women in the practice of centering prayer.  That I will be offering this lesson on centering prayer in a week where I am pulled in so many directions merely shows that God does have a great sense of humor.

But as I write, I sense a rightness and order in my world, even in winters that come too early and in graduations that mark a beginning of gardening knowledge rather than an ending and in teaching a lesson in centering prayer when I feel so off-center.

To God be the glory in all my days, especially when I slip off-center stage and reveal my broken humanity.