Last night, when I should have been sleeping to the rhythmic lullaby of the Gulf, I was not. Tossing and turning, pillow fluffing and flipping to the cold side the the pillow case failed as well. I counted sheep, counted my blessings, counted my yet to be answered prayers, and counted on those already crossed over to get to work as my emissary. Glasses and iPhone grabbed from the nightstand I decided to read the news. Surely, ( I hear you all doing the dont call me Shirley line) surely, all the anguish and hurt would seal my eyes shut and chase me to my subconscious. Nope! All that was left was Facebook and reading the clever comments of my fellow insomniacs. Jokes. Pictures. Drinking. Jokes and pictures of people drinking. Prayers. So many requests for prayers. Friends only hours from the loss of a parent, arms outstretched for a long distance bowed head. Children heading off the college and parents buying dozens of votive candles to light for grades and grace. A complete stranger, her youngest having drowned on vacation, pleading for the courage to say goodbye and using the newly, painfully, unimaginably honest words organ harvest in sentences of bereavement and hope. After each status of need update hundreds of likes and reassuring words: praying, Amen, Father hold them, prayers coming, Jesus is near...and on, and on. Ive responded similarly as well, and before I send my comment I try to act on that promise of prayer first, so daily life my short term memory loss wont make my promise of faith a broken one. I really try. But as my finger moved the page on my phone from name to name, date to date, I happened on a political argument. You know, the nasty, hate-filled, tasteless diatribes that move from sharing a link and a snark to those who think differently, to name calling and foul, four letter finger pointing. Usually invoking God and His kingdom in every other paragraph. Blah-blah. Lie-lie. Crapola-crapola. Bitter-bitter. Ugly-ugly. Until I saw a statement, with numerous likes, saying, Im sorry I prayed for you when I heard you had cancer. I felt embarrassed reading that. I looked out at the darkness, blinked my eyes, and looked back to make certain I hadnt misread it. And though Im not the best about attending Mass on Sundays, as is well documented by me being on Facebook and Husband being on his knees at Sacred Heart, I do recall much of my 12 years of wearing a green skirt and chapel veil, and how often we were instructed to pray for our enemies. I remember Sr. Anslem, her tight, summer white habit stretching the pale skin across her cheekbones into smooth, flawless perfection, chiding us to not boast of our prayers like the hypocrites do, praying only in public where they can be seen. I dont think Sister ever suggested we limit prayers to those we love or agree with. I think it may have been the complete opposite. Her words were firm and final. She was soft spoken on righteousness, but the ruler, that banged out the scriptures on her desk, had a roaring voice. Its hard to imagine if you pray to Jesus, or Adonai, or Allah, or Buddha, or Archangels and Higher Powers that taking back a prayer, like moldy bread to Publix or ill fitting shoes, is a good step in walking in your faith, but that is only my humble opinion. Maybe had I not been Sleepy, Grumpy, Hormoney, and the rest of Snow Whites brood, I wouldnt have brooded over it last night. Maybe thats why I quit liking or commenting on all things political, because one tap of the finger somehow erases years of proving who you are and how your heart beats. Maybe some Facebook prayers are real and some are Memorex...thin and plastic. Maybe I should leave this all alone. Maybe thats what the darn block function is for. WWJB...Im not smart enough to know what or who God would block, if anyone, given in the name of salvation and forgiveness he gave His only Son. But seeing how often He is tagged in words of hate and hurt, my guess is He wishes there were more Sr. Anselms around with her words of warning...and her ruler!
Posted on: Sun, 20 Jul 2014 18:03:10 +0000
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