The Rhythm of Prayer

When I first starting reconsidering Rhythm and Beauty, I began to make notes about how I wanted to incorporate the rhythm of the Lord into every moment of our day. It seemed at once overwhelming and simple to infuse our days with God's rhythm. After all, our God is a God of order and our Church has its own daily rhythm. But, I am not a monk and often my monastery bells are of the childish variety.This post is nearly six months in the writing.
    The Church's rhythm is the Liturgy of the Hours. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that , "The Liturgy of the Hours is intended to become the prayer of the whole people of God." Even mothers with houses full of little children:-). John Paul II had great faith in the ability of the laity to prayer the Divine Office. He used his Wednesday audience to teach on the Psalms and he began his teaching with these words:

In the Apolostolic Letter Novo Millenio Ieunte, I expressed the hope the the Church would become more and more distinguished in the "art of Prayer" learning it ever anew from the lips of the divine master. This effort must be expressed above all in the liturgy, the source and summit of ecclesial life. Consequently, it is important to devote greater pastoral care to promoting the Liturgy of the Hours as a prayer of the whole people of God...If, in fact, priests have a precise mandate to celebrate it, it is also warmly recommended to lay people.

If John Paul II warmly recommended it, that works for me. There was no caveat against mothers praying the Hours or no warning that it is not intended for households with children under three. Just a warm recommendation. Like pretty much everything else worthwhile in a homeschooling mom's life, this endeavor required organization. It took a good deal of time to learn about how the Divine Office is prayed and for what all those different ribbons were sewn into Christian Prayer. The Unversalis site is an excellent source. If you don't mind sitting in front of your computer, you can almost pray the entire office from the site. It's a good way to become familiar with the different components as I fumble with all those ribbons.I've linked the site at the top of the righthand sidebar.  I learned that the Office is flexible enough to work in my household, provided that I'm disciplined enough to make it happen.
     Morning Prayer is meant to be said first thing in the morning. First, I pray the Invitatory Psalm (the Church's introduction to her gifts for the day).After that, Lauds consists of a hymn, two psalms , an Old Testament canticle, a short reading, and prayers of intercession. These prayers are ideally followed by Mass. Morning Prayer is fairly simple for me to pray on a regular basis. I am a morning person and this is what I do first thing. Ideally, I follow my morning prayer with the Office of Readings. This is the flexible part. It can be said at any time of day at all. Usually, I fix Nicholas a cup of tea and set him up with the sports page after Morning Prayer. Then, I can do the Office of Readings. If Kari awakens, she'll nurse while I pray. Anyone else can wait for me. This is my time to truly immerse myself in the Word and to listen to God. It's a good time to take notes and make resolutions. It's also a time to consult Divine Intimacy, for Carmelite inspiration. If, for some reason (and I can think of eight or nine), I am interrupted, I can move the Office of Readings to naptime. If worse comes to worst, I can take it with me and go early to pick up at ballet or soccer and pray it in the car while I wait.
    The Office of Readings contains much food for thought and prayer. There is a sizable Scripture reading, followed by a second reading, taken from the early Church or old homilies or from the writings or biographies of the saints. Truly, our faith is so beautifully revealed in the Office of Readings that I'm astounded that it's such a well-kept secret! This is the good stuff--the stuff that will sustain us and make us holy. This is the Word of God and the living faith of His people. It's all here. And it's so organized. Perfect, perfect rhythm (and those who know me, know I never, ever say "perfect").
    I do like to pick out the collect for the day and a brief biography of the saint to share with the children before we begin lessons.Usually, I find these at Catholic Culture.We also pray a decade of the rosary and a morning offering and consecration prayer. I love the Patmos rosary book for the joyful mysteries and I do hope that there are more coming soon. The daytime prayers--Terce, Sext, and None--are to be said separately at about nine, noon and three or I can choose to say one single daytime prayer, depending on the time it's said. Usually, it's simple enough to say this one with the children at noon, before lunch.
    Vespers is tricky. Frankly, my life is pretty crazy and entirely lacking in rhythm at this hour of day. Every day is different and it even differs from day to day and week to week. I'm told that this hour is supposed to take me from the bustle of the day to the calm of the evening. I find that I need to put it off until I'm nursing the baby to sleep.And, truthfully, this is where I start to fade. So it takes real effort for me to focus and stay awake during Vespers.
    The Compline is the Church's night prayers.These are fairly easy to say in community--my community is my family. The Compline can be combined with Vespers and as my children get older, I'd like to see that happen. For now, I use The Night Prayerbook with the children and we say the Compline together.This is also our time for any seasonal novena.The exception is Sunday Vespers. Patmos has done a beautiful job of making Sunday Vespers accessible for family prayer and so,we get to that as often as possible.I've found it helps to light a candle and make it quiet, holy and apart from the rushabout routine. I'm slowly working on ideas for special candles. We have very much enjoyed using my "JOY" luminaria since Gaudete Sunday. So I'm brainstorming for what to light during ordinary time.It also helps to pray at the same time every night, as much as possible.
    I fall asleep saying the rosary. If I don't finish (and I often don't), I ask my guardian angel to finish for me. I am also a huge, huge fan of a rosary CD in the car and the iPod so that I can hear the rosary while driving or while pushing a stroller around the block. I sneak a decade in when nursing or washing dishes. I'm still pretty much addicted to the rosary.
    This sounds like so much!And it is. But it's not. It's one of those things that, once you do it, you wonder how you ever functioned without it. Truthfully, tell me, if someone told you fifteen years ago that you'd be spending the time you do sitting in front of a computer screen, wouldn't you have been amazed? How would you find that kind of time? But you made that time, didn't you? And in many ways you are a better person for the things you've discovered during that time. Praying the Liturgy of the Hours comes with no caveats. The time you found for the computer has been good time and it's been wasted time. Really.
The time you spend with God? It's all good.

A Day of Grace

On Holy Days, Mike works for EWTN, directing the televised Mass from the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. Our family makes the pilgrimage to the Shrine early, well before Mass, because Mike needs the pre-production time to work. This leaves us hours to wander in the most beautiful church I know. I am so grateful that these regular pilgrimages are a part of our family culture and that my children have an intimate relationship with both the place and the people of Mary's Shrine.
    Yesterday, it was very, very crowded. There were over 3.000 Haitians there to advance the cause for sainthood of Mother Mary Lange. They made for a very festive atmosphere. It was also a bit more overwhelming than usual.
    We began with confession. The confessional is located right next to the Crypt Church on the lower level. There was a Mass being celebrated while we waited. My children love to go to confession at the Basilica--the confessionals themselves are "cool" but it's the priests who really win their hearts. We were there a long time, as the priests gave each of us extended time and attention. We traded off with Karoline, who found herself in the Basilica for the first time since learning to walk and was determined to show us all the places she wanted to go!
    After confession, we went down to the bookstore and giftshop. Since the medals I had intended for the boys for St. Nicholas Day never arrived, I was eager to see if I could purchase them there. And I could! I also found a couple of Christmas gifts and thoroughly enjoyed poking through the display of Advent reading. The Advent devotional I had ordered for myself (which didn't arrive when the medals didn't arrive) was there as well. All the frustrations of the bad day were rapidly dissolving in the good one.
    We went to the Great Upper Church and stopped at each little chapel to pray. The children chose one chapel in which to light their vigil candles.And Katie found her way to her favorite chapel where she threw pennies in the water and made new friends with other children.
    Finally, it was time for Mass. As soon as the first strains of music began, Karoline started to scream. Honestly, I think she thought she was singing. But it was so high-pitched and so distinctive that the benevolant man running the television production, who was outside in the TV truck, winced when it hit his headset. And then, he turned to his colleagues and said, "I'm pretty sure that's my child." Thankfully, I had positioned us right by a stairway. I left the children and spirited Karoline back down to the lower church. I had plans to sit in front of the statue of St. Joseph and beg on behalf of a friend was moving yesterday and one who would dearly love to move very soon.  But those prayers were said while in pursuit of a toddler who would have nothing of sitting anywhere.
    In the center of the lower church, just next to the large crowd of  disciples of Mother Mary Lange, was a very  impressive exhibit of the Russian Orthodox Church in the Twentieth Century (note: the link says that there's an entrance fee; there is not). It took me a minute or two to absorb what this display was and then, honestly, I giggled. I drew the attention of an Easter Orthodox priest who looked up from a relic of St. John Maximovich and smiled at me. I pointed out to him that we were standing in front of a beautiful display of relics of saints of the Orthodox church which were being displayed in a Catholic shrine named for the Immaculate Conception and that the Immaculate Conception was a bit of a point of difference between the two churches. I asked how that display came to find itself there. He told me that the Basilica was the only place in DC that was large enough and open and friendly towards the display.We had a nice chat while I stood swaying Karoline. As soon as she was asleep,I took a few minutes in front of St. John Maximovich's hat to pray particularly for a family dear to that saint and then I crept back up to the church to join my children.
    After Mass, I had hoped the Upper Church would clear out as it usually does. I had visions of having the Miraculous Medal Chapel to ourselves for a few moments. That was not to be. The mass for Mother Mary Lange was scheduled next and the great crowd from downstairs stampeded upstairs. Fortunately, Mike was finished and he found us at the Blessed Sacrament chapel. We gathered the troops and went back downstairs, truly just searching for any quiet , sort of private place a this point. We found the chapel of Our Lady of Brezje. There, our family made the consecration to the Blessed Mother and we gave the children their medals. Since I'm quite sure that it was providential to be in this particular chapel (there was no place else to go), I plan to learn a little more about Our Lady of Brezje this week. I do know that these words, quoted on the righthand wall, will provide much food for meditation: This is all I desire: to be where God wants me to be.
    We left the Shrine and went to Chinatown for lunch. Mike's office is in the nearby neighborhood and he took us to a restaurant he knew well. He ordered an amazing feast and the children ate very, very well. Karoline charmed all the dear Chinese ladies and they kept bringing her little treats to eat. This provided just the diversion to allow us to catch up with Michael a bit.
    After Chinatown, we wandered over to the National Christmas Tree. This momentous occasion marked the first time Karoline rode in what we now affectionately call "The New AAA Stroller," named for the trash company and not the automotive company, though both visited on that fateful day.  We watched the trains and visited the nativity and saw each of the individual state trees. Mike and I ran into a friend from high school and caught up a bit. Patrick and Mary Beth are sure they saw Mr. Mitchell there but by the time they were able to interrupt me and see if they could go talk to him, they couldn't find him. Since I know he was in town this weekend,  I guess it's possible that is indeed who they saw.It's a very small world.  We stayed at the tree as the sun was setting and waited until it was lit. We walked past the White House and the children discussed what it would be like to play soccer on that lawn. Then we piled back into the van, picked up the other car, and took Michael back to school.
    After leaving Michael, Mike surprised us with a stop at Dairy Queen. I am a huge fan of peppermint ice cream. I pretty much save all my ice cream eating for those few weeks of the year when there is peppermint ice cream to be had. And I am here to tell you that last night I learned that a Peppermint Chip Blizzard at Dairy Queen is the most amazing peppermint ice cream on the planet. I promise.
    We arrived home just in time to plop in front of the television and learn that a homeschooler won the Heismann Trophy. We said our evening prayers, revealed the wee Babe in the candle, and went to bed. I told Mike it was one of the best days I can remember. To ice the cake, Karoline slept through the night for the first time ever. Takes a lot out of a baby to go on a pilgrimage:-)

Novena to Our Lady of Guadalupe

Yes! Another novena. This one is my favorite novena to Our Lady of Guadalupe. Her feast is December 12th. Isn't the beginning of Advent rich? In our family, we are praying the Novena before the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and we will add this one, too.I find that candles lit for the novenas help to capture the children's attention and these prayers are not so very long. My children seem very happy to be drawn into the season of feasts. So, there will be overlapping novenas. The St. Andrew Prayer in Anticipation of Christmas (on the righthand sidebar) will be prayed throughout Advent, drawing us every day into the very hour and moment of Christ's birth. It's the beginning of the liturgical year and a beautiful time of preparation in the Church. I find these particular prayers to be especially beneficial in creating a spirit of intention in our home. What does God intend for us? How does He intend us to direct our thoughts? To spend our time.I am particularly grateful for the deliberate attention to Mary, the Mother of God. I have written before about the way that I use the word "ladylike." It is my dearest desire to be so like Our Lady that I, too, carry Christ within my very being. Novenas in honor Our Lady draw us closer to her spirit and help us to infuse our souls with her sweetness. I do so love this one!

First Day

Dearest Lady of Guadalupe, fruitful Mother of holiness, teach me your ways of gentleness and strength. Hear my humble prayer offered with heartfelt confidence to beg this favor......
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Second Day

O Mary, conceived without sin, I come to your throne of grace to share the fervent devotion of your faithful Mexican children who call to you under the glorious Aztec title of Guadalupe. Obtain for me a lively faith to do your Son’s holy will always: May His will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Third Day

O Mary, whose Immaculate Heart was pierced by seven swords of grief, help me to walk valiantly amid the sharp thorns strewn across my pathway. Obtain for me the strength to be a true imitator of you. This I ask you, my dear Mother.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Fourth Day

Dearest Mother of Guadalupe, I beg you for a fortified will to imitate your divine Son’s charity, to always seek the good of others in need. Grant me this, I humbly ask of you.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Fifth Day

O most holy Mother, I beg you to obtain for me pardon of all my sins, abundant graces to serve your Son more faithfully from now on, and lastly, the grace to praise Him with you forever in heaven.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Sixth Day

Mary, Mother of vocations, multiply priestly vocations and fill the earth with religious houses which will be light and warmth for the world, safety in stormy nights. Beg your Son to send us many priests and religious. This we ask of you, O Mother.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Seventh Day

O Lady of Guadalupe, we beg you that parents live a holy life and educate their children in a Christian manner; that children obey and follow the directions of their parents; that all members of the family pray and worship together. This we ask of you, O Mother.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Eighth Day

With my heart full of the most sincere veneration, I prostrate myself before you, O Mother, to ask you to obtain for me the grace to fulfill the duties of my state in life with faithfulness and constancy.
Our father, Hail Mary, Glory.

Ninth Day

O God, You have been pleased to bestow upon us unceasing favors by having placed us under the special protection of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary. Grant us, your humble servants, who rejoice in honoring her today upon earth, the happiness of seeing her face to face in heaven.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory.

You light up my days...and fill my nights with song...

April 1, 2007

Dear Papa,

I had planned to write a long column this weekend, in time for tomorrow. But the baby was sick and my hands were full ,so all the writing I did was in my head.  I planned to write about that sobbing prayer two years ago, when I begged you to intercede for me. And then I'd write about all the little miracles strewn like roses in the days and weeks and months that followed.

Instead, I stayed up all night, dancing with my daughter.  She was feeling poorly and whimpering to be held. I gathered her up out of my bed and swayed with her in the darkness. For hours.  I sang my full repertoire of musicals.  I moved on to old Raffi tunes. I added a little Glory and Praise. And then, I switched to "You Light up my Life."  Her tears ceased and mine fell freely. I settled into the big chair, her head heavy against my chest and I remembered.

I remembered a time two years ago that was dark and sad. I was struggling with depression and so was Mike. Together, we were fumbling in confusion. Recovery from childbirth had been difficult. Recovery from a miscarriage more difficult. A year of infertility following that miscarriage was a year of pain like none I'd ever known. No light. Only darkness.  And on that Friday night, I held an eerie vigil in front of the muted television.

Please God, I don't know what I'll do without my Papa. And yet I know, I know that he is yours; he always was. Morning dawned and the day moved forward and then you were gone. And as naturally as the sobs escaped my throat, my soul begged your intercession. Tell Him, Papa! Please tell Him how sad I am, how much I want a baby, how much Mike needs him. Tell Him, Papa--I know you can.

And you did. Within an hour of that prayer, the answers began to become so clear.  You led us to a different parish. You put people in my path who would insist that I get to know the Little Flower you loved so well, the dear Saint you called a Doctor and by whom you trusted that the fullness of faith could be taught. She and you taught me about Love--Love incarnate, a good and gentle God who understood my pain and stooped to bind my wounds. I re-read all your letters to me. I read her words. Light dawned, love flickered.

Looking back, I should not be surprised that in the months following your death, I pushed by forces greater than me to travel. You were never afraid to travel. I had not been on an airplane in fifteen years. But I flew three times that year. The first time, I went Chicago and visited the shrine of St. Therese and left my petitions there. The last time, I went to Florida at my husband's insistence. We were there for an art gallery opening but we took a day trip to St. Augustine and the Shrine of Our Lady of La Leche.  I had a long talk with Our Lady that day. She already knew.I'm sure you told her.

One night, nine months after you died, my husband lit a candle in a church where you once celebrated Mass, in the presence of your relics. And then, our wait for a baby was over and yet it had begun. For nine more months, I was still, love growing inside of me.  I learned to love your favorite prayer and I prayed the rosary with St. Therese, sometimes twenty decades a day, including the five new decades that were your gift to me. All the time, I was almost afraid to believe, almost afraid to think that the light had returned and darkness was dispelled.

  Then she was here.  A glorious, beautiful, darling little girl. We call her Karoline Rose. She is a shower of roses, a basket of blessings. She is sweetness and she is light.  As she grows, I will tell her.  I will tell her about her Papa. She will know you and she will be grateful to share your name.

But now, she calls again. Enough remembering. I am living in the present, embracing every moment. I know you're here. I know you see her dear, dimpled chin. I know you watch me kiss her fat little cheeks and I know you smile.

Thank you!

A Call to Prayer

Lent began with a call to prayer--a jangling, jarring, unmistakable wake up call.  At three o'clock in the morning, the phone rang.  Since there were three cordless phones in the bedroom at the time, the phones rang--and they did so with authority. My husband answered and I could tell he was fumbling for words. I whispered the seven digit phone number into the darkness.  Mike relayed it and doublechecked for accuracy. He talked a little more and assured himself that the caller would indeed use the number provided.  A little more quiet talking. He hung up. Wrong number.

Our phone number is one digit off a local mental health hotline. Every once in awhile, we get a very serious "wrong number" phone call. And it's always in the middle of the night. I suppose we should have changed the number the first time it happened, but we figured it was an isolated incident. Now, we regard those dialing mistakes as opportunities for guardian angels to arrange for prayer vigils. We know how to keep the caller on the phone long enough to be certain he understands what the number really is and to be as certain as possible he'll make the second call. Before I hang up, I always tell the caller that I will be praying for him or her. On one occasion, the lady on the other end asked to pray with me. When it's the middle of the night and someone calls out of the blue and asks to pray, believe me, you sit up and you pray.

Whenever a phone awakens me in the middle of the night, even if it's not a hotline call, the adrenaline rush prevents me from going back to sleep easily. In the case of hotline calls, it's impossible not to wonder about the caller, about the outcome.  Usually, I don't go back to sleep at all. I just stay awake and pray. And for the next few days, every time the call comes to mind (and it is often), I pray some more.  An odd coincidence of numbers has resulted in an unexpected ministry.

There are so many calls to prayer in our lives, if only we hear them. Surely, the sound of sirens is such a call.  In the lives of mothers, the cry of a baby or even the whine of a toddler is a cue to beg divine intervention.  Nearly eight years ago, when my son Stephen was a newborn, a baby was born in California.  He was a fragile little boy, desperately ill.  And every single time my healthy bundle awakened me in the middle of the night, my prayers were offered first for Aidan in California.  It was my first experience asking the intercession of St. Therese. Aidan received a successful liver transplant on the Little Flower's feast day that year.  And I made a nighttime prayer partner for life. Therese and I still begin those nighttime vigils with a prayer for Aidan and now we offer those interrupted nights for all sorts of prayer concerns.

Whether it's the tinny ringtones of three phones or the quiet murmurs of my current baby, I am grateful for the reminder--the monastery bells in my domestic church. It's a privilege to join the company of monks and cloistered nuns around the world who have given their lives to pray.  My life is an active one; I am certainly not a contemplative. But in the dark of the night, often accompanied by the sweet sounds of a nursing baby, my prayers are joined with those of the universal church and the communion of saints as we beg for God's grace for the sick and the suffering.