When I was a child during lent my family would gather at my Grandparent's house. My many Aunts, Uncles and forty some grandchildren combined.
We would kneel down together in my Grandparent's living room and pray the rosary. My Grandfather would lead it saying, "Hail Mary…" in Portuguese, we would follow in English.
The memory of us praying together was like a wave rushing overhead. As if our prayer was something I could touch, hold on to, grab and put in my pocket. Over the years I have retreated to that living room of my childhood, that womb of protection, to hear those voices I loved– in difficult time that wave of prayer has brought me comfort, given me courage, peace… the force to carry on.
Prayer has been part of my life since I was a mere egg and sperm. My grand-parents prayed together everyday, as did my parents… I can see their rosary beads still, between their thumb and pointer finger, swaying underhand.
The dance of the rosary bead.
Many of you have asked me to pray for you over the years, prayers help. They might not give us the answer we want, though they do bring grace, courage and comfort. I believe every prayer said or acted is a healing balm to the collective.
Prayer is a voice, a mantra, a plea, a thanksgiving, a call, an echo, a song, a cry… prayer is a voice to the universe, to God, to me, to you, to each other, in the name of love, for courage.
It is a silent inner song… that connects us to the inner thread of life.
Miracles do happen.
Prayers are answered.
Love does find a way.
And we are all in this together.
Life continues to continue.
When my Father was in the hospital he prayed and at the end of his prayers he would add, "And when the time comes may you find a place for me in your heart dear Lord Jesus." I remember asking my Father why he said that, because it seemed to me that God certainly had a place for us all of us, sinner and saint, in his heart." My Father would just smile and nod his head.
In those last hours before he died, my family sat around his bedside, we prayed, we watched, we honored those last hours. It was then in those hours that I realized why my Father added to the end of his prayers, "And when the time comes may you find a place for me in your heart dear Lord Jesus." My Father was asking for God's will to bring him home in his time and in peace.
My Father suffered for months, though in the end he died in grace, in love, with his family around him, he was able to say goodbye to us, he was aware that he was going home to the heart of God. At his funeral I said in that honor, "My Dad's death was beautiful."
Death is sad, it hurts those left behind, it is a shock, it is a raw reality yet it can be beautiful for those who are ready to go home.
Prayer
words spoken
from the heart-
silently. tearfully.
joyous. bitter.
in need.
thanksgiving.
hope.
One word after another leading to a path of peace.
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