Walking is a time of prayer for me whether I'm at Hope or just taking the trash out.
It's a time when I talk to God, bouncing ideas off of Him, trying to figure out that day's puzzle.
And sometimes my prayers are more formal. Once I even brought a rosary with me on a walk. I found saying the Hail Mary to be comforting.
Of course when I was little and just learning the rosary, I sped through those prayers as quick as possible.
But now that I'm older, I cherish the opportunity to linger on and savor each word.
One night, weeks ago, my older cat, Little Girl, finally grew brave enough to come out from under the recliner and start exploring her new home. She didn't stray far. She wound up only a foot or so away from the recliner, laying on the floor next to me.
I offered comforting words, not knowing if they would make a difference. And then, for the first time in twenty years, The Lord's Prayer popped into my head, not the regular spoken version (I say that frequently), but the musical version, the version we used to sing in church when I was a kid.
The notes returned to me as if they had never been forgotten, but were simply waiting to be called.
And as I sang, I found myself appreciating The Lord's Prayer in new ways. The notes caused me to really focus on the words themselves.
Over and over, I sang the song and watched Little Girl next to me. I could see her relax. I had expected, quite frankly, my singing to drive her away. I didn't expect her to stay.
This morning, the rain was here again, stronger than yesterday, and I reminded myself once again that I go to church for time with God. The pictures are incidental.
And so I prayed.
It's a time when I talk to God, bouncing ideas off of Him, trying to figure out that day's puzzle.
And sometimes my prayers are more formal. Once I even brought a rosary with me on a walk. I found saying the Hail Mary to be comforting.
Of course when I was little and just learning the rosary, I sped through those prayers as quick as possible.
But now that I'm older, I cherish the opportunity to linger on and savor each word.
One night, weeks ago, my older cat, Little Girl, finally grew brave enough to come out from under the recliner and start exploring her new home. She didn't stray far. She wound up only a foot or so away from the recliner, laying on the floor next to me.
I offered comforting words, not knowing if they would make a difference. And then, for the first time in twenty years, The Lord's Prayer popped into my head, not the regular spoken version (I say that frequently), but the musical version, the version we used to sing in church when I was a kid.
The notes returned to me as if they had never been forgotten, but were simply waiting to be called.
And as I sang, I found myself appreciating The Lord's Prayer in new ways. The notes caused me to really focus on the words themselves.
Over and over, I sang the song and watched Little Girl next to me. I could see her relax. I had expected, quite frankly, my singing to drive her away. I didn't expect her to stay.
This morning, the rain was here again, stronger than yesterday, and I reminded myself once again that I go to church for time with God. The pictures are incidental.
And so I prayed.
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