Tag Archives: Prayer

In the Waiting Room

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I have always been a writer. The hobby started as a child and was something my mom encouraged. She was big on documentation. I certainly believed that after she died, and I inherited all the paperwork detailing things in her long life. The paper paraphernalia weren’t always appreciated, but after she left us, those writings became more precious.

My documentation started as a diary in my early youth, in my middle years journaling, and finally as an older adult, a column called Something About Nothing in the Albert Lea Tribune. That was I think, a twelve year gig. Technology changed from writing a column to this blog.

Recently I began looking back through my journals and they were helpful in reviewing my life, bringing back memories and seeing where I have grown, and where I have been stuck. Writing and journaling has always been a way to get my feelings out and to process them, many times letting of what I was upset about because I released it in word on paper without exploding at anyone. The times I didn’t journal are the moments I wrongly exploded at people including my husband and children.

Since our life with Alzheimer’s has begun I have shared with you the ups and downs. I’ve laid bare my feelings and emotions risking the backlash and disapproval of some. It was my way of coping and as I have received wisdom from others writings I wanted to share my experiences to let readers know they are not alone. I have heard from so many of you the life path we share. We have a choice to stay private or to put our hearts out there for all to see.

Thinking back to the times I’ve sat by bedsides of my family, and those acquaintances in the nursing home where it was at one time my job to comfort people in their last hours, I believe it never gets easier no matter how frequent you’ve been in that last waiting room with someone.

Each person’s last journey is different, which makes your own experience unique. It impacts wives, children and friends in separate ways, though they are with the same person. If each person at a bedside sat down and wrote their feelings each perspective would not be the same.

The waiting room. Minutes and seconds tick off on the clock. The first person whose death I witnessed was my cousin Ervin. He was in the hospital and we came to visit. My aunt, his mother, and also his wife were there. He took a quick turn for the worse and we knew he would go to a better place soon. My aunt asked if my husband and I would stay with them. I wanted to run out of the room and go home but felt we had to stay. I had never seen anyone die before and I was scared of my reaction, and instead of being a comfort, I would be a problem. I need not have worried. I held it together and kept my aunt close and my cousins death was peaceful.

A few years later my mom called me to be with my uncle, my dad’s brother. My mom left and he got worse. I was left with the choice of life support. I knew he didn’t want that and he had lived his life. I was there when he too left this earth.

There have been other occasions to sit with my loved ones on a final journey. It is never easy. It is never the same. It is never where I want to be. Yet, I have felt the presence of God. I have felt the presence of angels or messengers or whatever you want to call them and have seen the faces of my loved ones smile in welcome. Sometimes the waiting room lasts for weeks, or it might be hours or days. It is never easy but it is what you do for someone you love

That isn’t always the experience of everyone but that has been mine. My mother had a glowing smile on her face while she was in the waiting room. I asked her what she was smiling about and she answered, “Because I’m going to see your dad, my mom and dad and my brothers soon.”

Those words gave me peace. I don’t pretend to understand what happens while our loved ones are in the waiting room. And I have no explanation why some leave this earth easy and why some have to struggle so much.

Life is full of puzzles. When serious things are happening our emotions can get jumbled. We don’t see things clearly. All we can do is wait for the outcome no matter the situation. We can’t see the forest for the trees. We begin our life in the waiting room waiting to be born. And we occasionally end our life in the waiting room too.

For me sharing the journey through journaling and writing helps me sort out all those confusing moments preparing us for the next journey, or the waiting room where we can be silent and find our next path.

Sunday Morning Prayer Thoughts

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I can’t imagine a life without prayer. It may appear to others that I have let my prayer life lapse. I haven’t been to an actual church service in the last few years, partly because of Covid, and partly because of laziness and disillusion with the structure, meaning the business side of churches today. Yet, I rarely miss a Sunday of online service.

I have a prayer app and a Bible on my phone that I try to use each day. It’s where I store my prayer list. My bookshelves are full of Christian books, although I am almost scared to use the word Christian anymore because of the way it is bandied about with political affiliations that twist the word, and turn it into something I do not recognize when I think of prayer and relationship with God.

I might appear to others and even my family as someone who has lost faith. I used to be an avid churchgoer, dedicated volunteer, and tried to do everything the right way in the eyes of others. That’s just it—the eyes of others. For me the pandemic helped slow me down and examine my unease when it came to church and prayer.

I found I loved the beautiful worded prayers of others, in person or in a prayer book. I get anxious because though I am a writer, I can’t make up flowery prayer on my own. Panic sets in if someone asks me to lead prayer. I babble. I’m insecure and the words don’t reach my heart.

I realized that my frustration with church was about the business dynamics and the structure. We spend more time and money on pomp and circumstance then we do on educating our children with programs and outreach to the community. It costs money to belong to most churches, and if you don’t have any, it’s occasionally hard to participate in activities or listen to the pitch for money when you can contribute little. I once was told by a church council President that my views didn’t matter because I didn’t give enough money. Imagine a homeless person walking into a church service with their old clothes and see what would happen. Would they be welcomed? Would they feel out of place?

It’s scary to share my insecurities. They’ve always been there. I just sucked them up and became part of church communities. When our life changed years ago I saw things differently. A change in our lifestyle because of circumstances changed the dynamics of our church life. No one intentionally made us feel bad, and many had no idea, but we couldn’t contribute like before and there was always an appeal for money to make the building better, or activities cost so we quit going to the activities and pulled back. We felt the shame of not being able to heed the call as we had in better days.

Back to prayer. We had to rely on and believe God had this. That’s all we could do. That’s all we can do in our lives. Prayer is what kept us going. It wasn’t the flowery prayer but just the simple prayer from our hearts that would be uttered over and over in different ways through the day. It was the two or three of us in conversation over coffee about God and prayer and taking the time to pray with those people, that kept us going. It was the simple prayer, “Help me, Lord.” It was others praying for us.

I may not be in church each Sunday, but prayer in my day never ends. I find myself uttering small prayers throughout the day, prayers of thanks, of blessing and gratitude and asking for help. I guess you could say it’s prayer without ceasing because it’s a habit. It’s where I turn. I suspect there are many others like me.

I know I need church community. My best friends over the years have come out of that community and will again once I settle in my living arrangements so I can find a church home. Church community though can be so much more than a building or a denomination. We have church community here, where we live in Independent/Assisted living. It is not unusual for someone in the dining room to ask for us to pray, or at an activity. If someone needs prayer another resident might come to our room, or we to theirs to pray for someone. This is another kind of church community.

I chose to share my thoughts because I felt someone might be feeling the way I have, and to let them know they are not alone. Your prayers matter and they are heard, no matter if they are rote prayer or a muttering as you’re walking down the street. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a sacred space or in a homeless shelter. Your prayers are heard.

I am not a religious scholar, just an ordinary person so I can’t tell you if what I’m saying is right. They are just my feelings. And now it’s time for online service with my old home church. Have a beautiful prayerful day.

Prayer Where?

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I’ve had some downtime from writing. Blips in my personal life interfered with my creative endeavors. It’s been hard to put the words on the page. During this time I’ve scrolled and read many posts about needing to put God back in schools. This old person has other ideas. You might not agree but different opinions posed constructively lead us to examine our beliefs if we keep an open mind. And on some occasions great conversation.

I don’t remember prayer being in my public school when I attended classes in the 60s. Yes, the Pledge of Allegiance was said when appropriate, and there were religious songs sung and played at concerts. Christmas programs were Christmas programs, not religious programs but church songs were not excluded. I have no idea what all the complaining is when it comes to God in our public schools, except it’s a great mem on Facebook and other Social Media platforms that get our ire up. We pass it along without actually thinking it through.

What I do remember is prayer at mealtime in our home when the family would sit down together. The same happened in my friend’s homes. I remember attending church every Sunday because our parents made us and they went too. I remember religion classes on Saturday and Wednesday nights. I remember prayer at bedtime with my parents. i remember my Grandmother sitting in her wheelchair by the window with her rosary in her hand praying every day. I remember my Aunt Mary with her Bible on her lap in prayer after supper. I remember holidays where our schedule was built around the church. There was no choice between attending school activities or church activities. School activities lost every time if there was a conflict.

The same happened when my kids were growing up. No matter what activities they were in we always sat down for a meal together almost every night. It might not always have been at the same time but we found some time. Church activities came first and so did church on Sunday plus Sunday School and confirmation Wednesday nights and Saturdays. I remember when my daughter was in high school and we had tickets to the Broadway show Phantom of the Opera and it coincided with a confirmation trip. Yup, she went on the confirmation trip, and guess what, she survived missing the musical. Were my kids ever upset with us because of the choices we made when it came to church activities…all the time, yet they’re still speaking to us.

Parents are blaming schools for the lack of God in the school but perhaps they need to take responsibility for the choices that are being made for the lives of their families also. Churches have changed the way they teach because Sunday School, Confirmation, and prayer aren’t a priority in families lives anymore. It takes a backseat to whatever fun activity is happening in the community. Thirty minutes a week is not much for churches to teach kids about the role of God in their life. The churches have caved to societies worldly pressures.

Here’s what I don’t understand. I hear you when you complain that you don’t have a choice because all these activities in schools are planned for nights and weekends that used to be reserved for church. You ask, “What is a parent to do?” Parents don’t want their kids to be left out of the game or miss good times with their friends. They don’t want their kids penalized because they made them take part in church activities instead of practices or games. Parents want their kids to be well-rounded with activities that will take them into the future. They don’t want them bored and the church is occasionally boring. Somehow I think learning about God has been taken out of the phrase well-rounded.

School boards are under fire because people are protesting mask mandates and vaccine mandates. Does that say where priorities are? I haven’t heard any protests of parents being upset because of all the activities that take away from their kids learning about God in their homes and their churches. Yet the complaints of God not being in school are all over social media but it doesn’t seem to translate to the source of the problem. I would say that is a choice that has been made by families all over the United States. It’s time to own it and quit blaming schools for taking God out of the schools. We did it to ourselves when we let schools take our church time or made the choice to prioritize fun time over church time. We did it to ourselves when we quit praying as a family at mealtime or at bedtime or when we quit having faith conversations with our kids.

You might think I/m passing the buck but I’m not. I have to own my own mistakes. I’m a believer in prayer. I pray, sometimes it’s conversation but it’s a prayer. I’ve lost my desire to attend church the past year, not the church’s fault, but my own quest for examining what I believe and somewhat laziness, but I will go back. I didn’t quit praying. It was ingrained in me by my parents, by my relatives, and by my different churches. I can’t imagine a life without prayer. Prayer has saved me many times when I haven’t had anywhere else to turn.

Covid has left me finding so many online resources for my faith. We all struggle and have our ups and downs and my family is no different. I have fallen back as a parent encouraging my adult children and my grandchildren in faith and I see the results. Recently my eyes were opened when a family member told me they didn’t pray. That is a concept I totally didn’t understand. My heart dropped when I heard it. That brought me back to the kind of role model I’ve been the last few years. I may not have been in church but I didn’t leave God or prayer, but we didn’t talk about it. I haven’t had those conversations with the people I love. The role of a parent in teaching our families about God doesn’t end when they turn 18.

I also admit I was shocked a few years ago when directing a Christmas Program in church and a couple of the children that only came to be in the Christmas Program had never heard the story of the birth of Jesus. Recently, a friend told me of another young person who had never heard of the creation story or the Garden of Eden. Somewhere there is a disconnect and I have to feel it starts with us as Grandparents and parents and yes churches.

As for churches, it’s not a competition or it shouldn’t be. I never wanted my kids to learn about God in school. I felt it wasn’t the schools or the teachers’ responsibilities. It was ours as parents. I also believe it’s time for churches to teach and set the bar higher for expectations for the kids. Stop being afraid people will leave or people will get mad and do what churches are supposed to do. Be a respite for the weary, Kids are weary too. Take care of the ones that are there, and help them know what they believe and why they believe it, so they can go forward and take that knowledge to teach the next generation. Prayer will be with us for a lifetime. History has shown us prayer has kept people alive and given them hope in the most dire conditions. Don’t we want that for our children?

The next time you pass along the mem of putting prayer back in schools, examine what that means and if it was ever there. Maybe change it to “Put Prayer Back In The Home.”