A Pray-er

“If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!”

                --Shel Silverstein

I was recently given the assignment to select one word that describes me and write about it.  At first this sounded so simple, but in my usual fashion I spent a little too much time dwelling over it.  I wear many badges.  I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a teacher, a friend....you get my point.  The word that returned to me most often and a word I've never used to describe myself was pray-er, a person that prays.  I questioned if it was really a word...it is...I looked it up.  It is seldom used, but it is a word.

When I think of a pray-er I most often think of the painting of a child kneeling beside the bed, hands clasped with fingers pointing upward and head bowed.  Or that of a man giving thanks over a loaf of bread.  Both are inspiring visions.

I've ofter heard we should find a time and place to spend a moment with our Creator in quiet meditation.  It is a pleasant thought.

I was in the second grade when a Sunday School teacher become quite upset with me because I add "thank you God for the birds that sing" to the end of a chain prayer.  I was told it was inappropriate and I should find something more serious to pray about or for.   My feelings were so hurt I bolted from the room.  It was the moment I became a pray-er...a silent pray-er.

Several weeks ago I was passing snack to my children when I noticed a child crying.  I ask what was wrong and several children chimed in to say the child had eaten before we said the blessing.   The child, through tears, said, "I'm sorry, I forgot".    I had just set the bag of crackers down on the counter.  I reached over took out a couple of the bite-sized crackers and ate them.  The children looked at me silently with wide eyes.  I immediately placed my hand over my mouth and said, "Oh my I just ate a cracker".  I continued to explain that God doesn't care when we give thanks.  He only ask us to give thanks.  My tearful friend was now giggling and everyone else was hushed.

I don't have a special prayer formula.  I don't have a set of special words.  I don't have a special place to sit.  And I certainly do not have any special gifts.   It is just something I find myself doing more often than not.  Most often I am not in a quiet place.  I pretty much have an ongoing dialogue and I ask a lot of "why" questions.  To some my prayers may even seem irreverent.  I once ask God to give me a sign to let me know what to do.  Not a subtle sign (I'm not very good with subtleties), but please just hit me over the head with it.

I can't look out over the ocean, sit across from my family, go to bed with a roof over my head, face the morning without first giving thanks and asking for direction and help.

I often think of my second grade Sunday School teacher and wonder how she would feel about my prayers.  I wonder what she would think of one of my favorite children's prayers.

Oh, the Lord is good to me

And so I thank the Lord

For giving me the things I need

The sun and the rain

And the apple seed.

Oh, the Lord is good to me.

And yes, I still thank God for the birds that sing.

I'm also a magic bean buyer, but that is a story for another day.