Prayer in hard times


A Story:

A while ago, during a three-day snowstorm for which we all stayed mostly bundled and toasty and indoors, the baby got a hair stuck around a toe on his right foot. It twisted and tightened over the course of the three days, digging into the skin which then got infected. Now before you judge (not that you would, but just in case), know that I was raised in Central Florida where people don't really wear socks, much less bundle, and this was my first cold-climate baby. Also, I somehow missed the parenting memo to look out for this sort of a thing, though I have since learned that there are circulating horror stories to warn (and chasten) parents like me about the dangers of hair tourniquets.

Bear with me. We're getting to the prayer part.

So, the infected toe was swollen and red. And there was a circle of blood around the base where the hair had been. Middle child, age 6,  was vexed about this once it was discovered and treated. He was agitated the whole day after we got back from the doctor. That night, as  I was tucking him in, he shared his disturbance. "I don't like looking at his toe," he said. "I feel weird when I think about it. And I'm sorry for him."

We had spent the day talking and learning about infections, antibiotics, blood clotting, circulation, how soap works, what pharmacists do, etc.--because this is homeschooling, after all, and his brother was, as usual, all smiles and coos, but middle child's worry did not abate. So, I asked if he wanted to say a prayer for his baby brother. He did.

"I wish he never got the hair around his foot, and I wish he never got hurt, and I love and care for him, and I don't want him to get hurt ever."

That was, I think, his first prayer spoken from a troubled heart.

And for me, it was one of the first times in our family when suggesting prayer seemed the natural thing to do. We knew what there was to know. We did what there was to do. And still, we felt the feelings we felt. What was left? Praying was left.

Middle child fell asleep. The toe healed in a week.

It's a small example, and likely we missed a goodly handful of bigger opportunities to learn such a skill in years past, but that's how I learned to suggest prayer in hard times.

I sometimes envision that I carry with me, as a homeschooling parent, a satchel. In my satchel I keep the things that we need in order for the learning to happen: ways of seeing, ways of asking, ways to make peace, and ways to mend hearts. That day, I added prayer to my satchel. I think my middle child might have added it to his bag of tools, too.

One more thing:

Here's a link to the text from a good, short pamphlet called "Unitarian Universalist Views of Prayer." (Lynn Ungar's views resonate the most strongly with me as they are straightforward and poetic, both. There are 8 individuals' answers. I'd be curious to know which work for you and why, or if you have a totally different view of prayer.)

And a blessing before you go (which is totally a prayer, too!):

May the hearts in your home find peace in troubled times, through means that speak most powerful to you and yours.

-- T.H.Y.

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