knowing

Recently, a friend asked me about my prayer life. I stammered and stuttered before finally admitting, "I don't really have a prayer life. I'm not good at it. I'm not good at sitting still." I felt slightly abashed and ashamed. "I can pray at church, " I added, hoping I wouldn't look like I needed to be on the receiving end of "The Idiot's Guide to Prayer" or "Praying for Dummies," and not acknowledging that the prayer comes after Communion when I can bury my face in my hands so that I don't start people watching instead of praying.

I try to pray. But I'm easily distracted...every sound, every person who walks by the door of the chapel, every thought that floats through the back of my mind. I cannot just let them pass--I turn and look at each one. My nana loved to pray. When we took her to Ireland a few years ago, she'd sometimes disappear in the afternoon or evening. It became a running joke. "Where's Nana?" "Saying her prayers..." She took great comfort in it. The house could be falling down around her...and she wouldn't know it in those moments.

But I do believe that God's wants to know me (and you), and to be known by me (and you). God wants to be in relationship with me. I want to create and carve out the time to nurture that relationship, to listen to God and talk to God the way I listen to and talk to my friends. I know that when I slowed down this past fall and took time to read about Ignatian spirituality and discernment, the time was fruitful and positive. It helped me to see my choices clearly and make a decision that I truly believe is God's desire for me.

I hope that this Lent I can make some more of that time, creating the space to go deeper with God.