Build with Kindness

Out in the roar of March’s winter prowl, it is still too cold for the sparrow to think of nesting. This is the tempestuous tugging between winter and spring, and March will have no clear winner. New life is either hiding or biding its time. Yet the sun is warming, and this patch of the world is turning steadily toward lengthening days.

Sparrow, my time will come before yours. I am nesting now. I am preparing a place for my not-so-hidden new life. The sun’s warmth spreads over me with an urgency as the days till Easter Sunday melt away. I must build.

I must gather the twigs, the soft grasses of autumn. I must gather the feathers, the string, and nature’s downy gifts. I must knit these comforts together in a sheltered hollow for my young.

Build with kindness, the wind whispers. This is the word I have heard. This is what I must circle our home with.

When kindness lines our days, the atmosphere changes.

Voices calm.

Tempers soothe.

Transitions are smooth.

We are all a little more settled, a little more satisfied.

There are more smiles, more hugs, more opportunities to share moments of wonder together.

When kindness lines our days, our hearts change.

Wrath is turned.

Mercy learned.

Compassion confirmed.

There is more repentance. There is more grace.

The Spirit’s fruit tree blossoms and bears good things, and by it were are sustained.

Kindness brings the warmth of spring to chilly days.

It is a simple investment, and small, but made mighty layer by layer. It is a habit of moments, of gathering the minutiae of life into a more gracious form. Kindness is never insignificant. By it I may build and bolster our home to be the haven I desire.

By kindness I will prepare a nest to receive you, little one – to sustain us all in the great change ahead, to soften the edges of tiring days, to warm this humble space with whispers from our good Father. His is the open hand wherein we may all rest. 

~lg

Beach Days and Prayer: An Update on Habits in Formation

Summer's here, and my routines and habits are being sorely tested! There's nothing like camping, company, and beach days to throw things delightfully out of whack. So where does that leave prayer?

Some things have stuck a little more than others. I've discovered that with habit training (which is what this life of prayer is, among other things) it's pretty hard to introduce a whole bunch of habits all at once and expect them to stick from the start. I may be trying to do only "one thing" - pray more - but each intentional moment of prayer throughout the day is, in a sense, its own habit. And with establishing new habits, the common wisdom is: one at a time.

So where have I been sticking the most to my pattern of prayer?

Morning prayer
In a way this has been the least consistent time of prayer. Getting up at different times, in different places, with different people around has meant that I haven't been sitting down in my cozy blue chair before the world around me gets going. The prayer book that I have been using as a guide for my morning prayer times hasn't been used as much. (It's pretty big, so I didn't take it camping with me.) I also usually like to build in time for reading Scripture with my morning prayer. (I like to get my daily bread first thing, if I can.) But with a more relaxed routine, that hasn't been happening as often in the mornings either.

What has been sticking though, is that stirring in my heart in those first moments of waking - O Lord, let my soul rise up to meet you as the day rises to meet the sun. This day is yours, and I am yours. Some days this leads into a focused time of prayer and Scripture, if I've gotten up before the rest of the house. Some days I pray as I get ready ready for the day, showering and dressing, seeking to clothe myself with Christ and consecrate myself and my day to him. So it's been looking different, but the desire is the same. And if desire is such a thing that can be trained (and I do believe it is), then I think I have created a consistent habit of desire when it comes to morning prayer.


Midmorning prayer
This is the prayer the children and I do together with our morning snack. When we are home in the mornings, this almost always happens. The children help remind me! Which brings me to two important things about habit training:

1. It's easier to stick to a habit when it's linked to another daily ritual (in this case, a regular snack).

Linking a new habit to an existing one is a great way to ensure it "sticks." It removes a whole level of having to remember. It ties the new habit to something already anchored. It strengthens the new habit by supporting it with embodied actions. Now I can't sit down at our homemade harvest table for a morning snack without thinking about praying together. This is also the time we read a Bible story. It's now a package deal - snack, story, prayer. It's just what we do, and the kids don't let me forget it!

2. It's easier to stick to a habit when it's done in community (in this case, my own kids).

Forming new habits with others may take a little more work at first, but the community reinforcement is invaluable. If one person forgets, doesn't feel like it, or gets off track, there are others to help keep things going. Sometimes the momentum of the community is the only thing dragging me along (MOM! We forgot to pray!), and I'm thankful for it. We keep each other moving in the right direction.


Noon prayer
This is a habit that hasn't been firmly established yet. Most days I forget. I'm probably just distracted at this point. Or maybe it's just a matter of letting other habits get established before tackling this one. I don't have a wall clock in the kitchen. A simple thing, but it might help. High noon hands - time to lift my own in thanksgiving. Either that, or a little sign or sticky note by the kitchen sink to remind me to pause and praise.


Afternoon prayer
Here's another one I haven't gotten the knack of yet. I think it's partly because afternoons can be so unpredictable, especially in the summer. I've "tied" this prayer time to the kids' quiet time. If we're in our regular routine, it's much easier for me to take a few minutes and re-root myself in the Vine. There is still a struggle in those precious moments of quiet to silence the distractions and pull of the computer screen. To be sure, there is always something to attract my attention. But, realistically, this is often the only opportunity I have to go deeper into God's word for a few minutes, seek God's wisdom for the needs of the day, or put pen to paper. When I've done that first, I find my interactions with people afterwards (yes, sometimes on social media) are more meaningful. I find my activity around the house to be more productive and purposeful. When I prioritize prayer, other things fall into place, are put in proper perspective, and are filled with renewed purpose.


Supper prayer
This one is fairly consistent, if short. We thank God for providing and pray a blessing over our meal before we begin. Sometimes the adults pray, sometimes it's one of the kids. When the meal is over, we read a portion of Scripture before the kids are excused from the table. Right now we are reading the daily psalm excerpt from my prayer book. (It's easy in that the reading is printed right there for each day of the year.) Other times we've gone slowly through a book of the Bible together. The bones of this habit are there. I'm not sure how it may develop in the future into more of a family devotional time.


Evening prayer
This is another one of those still in formation. It all depends on how much brain power is left when my head hits the pillow! It has been a great help to process the day in the light of prayer, instead of fruitless worrying or replaying. I find the desire is usually there - the movement of the spirit toward God before sleep. Especially after a trying day, I can repent, release, and rest.



So that's how it's all been working out in the day to day. I'm encouraged by the habits that are sticking, because I'm seeing fruit! I still have a long way to go, and a lot to learn. This is more to do with the framework than the content of prayer right now. This is nuts and bolts stuff, but it matters. I am making opportunities for encountering the living God. I am training my heart to seek him. I am tuning my ears to hear his voice. He is not far off, no indeed. He is right here in the middle of it all, wanting to weave his life with mine.

The closer I stick to him, the more I see him everywhere - in the lively discussion with summer guests, and the quiet sunset over a campground, and the roll of waves as the children roam the beach. One of the rewards of prayer is how this sweet communion spills over into all of life, infusing it with colours of grace and making the ordinary sing with holiness. Thanks be to God.

The Card at the End of March: How One Prayer Keeps on Giving

Every year, at the end of March, one of these envelopes arrives in the mailbox at the end of the lane. 

It's from Wycliffe College, where I did my Master of Theological Studies, and I know exactly what's inside. This one piece of mail has had a large influence in my journey toward more intentional prayer. 

When I read it, I remember I am part of something bigger. When I read it, I know I am thought of with intention. When I read it, I feel as if a great circle of prayer has opened up and drawn me inside. 

I know what will happen, at some point in April, in the little brick chapel with the stained glass saints, at the end of the long hall lined with alumnae faces. 

A real live person will say my name in prayer, out loud, and the sound will rise up past those wooden rafters and make its way to heaven. 

I know because I've been there, and I've heard the prayers. It's all part of the Wycliffe Cycle of Prayer. A long time ago, the communal wisdom decided it would be a good idea to write down the names of all of the living Wycliffe alumnae, and pray for each person once a year as part of the daily offices. There's even a little booklet made up each year, sent to all the alumnae, with all these names divided up by date. It's not rocket science, nor is it empty ritual. It's an audible, tangible, intentional working out of Paul's admonition to "Devote yourselves to prayer" (Colossians 4:12). 

Somebody thought of me, and didn't want to forget, so they wrote my name down. They prayed for me by name. And they sent me this card. 

I don't know about anyone else, but I can be forgetful. I can have good intentions to pray for a lot of people, and a lot of things, but unless these intentions are formed into a plan, they too easily get lost along the way or elbowed out by the urgent. 

It's been a growing desire, these past years, to put more devotion into my prayer. And whenever I get one of these in the mail, I am reminded that a little planning can go a long way. 

This April, I kept it up on the fridge all month. And I started thinking what it would look like to create my own cycle of prayer, for me, and our family. Something simple. A starting point. A place to hang those dear names, those concerns and burdens, those stirrings of the Spirit, those passions and pursuits. A way to remember, and a way to keep me going in the habit of prayer. I've been experimenting with one or two ideas, and maybe I'll share them in posts to come. 

So, thanks Wycliffe! Your prayer keeps on giving. 

~lg

A Habit of Prayer

As I work out what it means to become this person of prayer, I am drawn to holy people through the ages who marked their days and nights with regular “hours” of prayer. They trained desire into a discipline by putting on a habit of prayer.

A habit. It is what the nuns wear to mark themselves as those devoted to God. It is an outward sign of an inward state. And habits, the patterns of living we either fall into or form for ourselves, these too are outward forces which have the power to direct what flows within.

In my longing for a life of prayer, I need more than desire. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. It needs to be trained. It needs a path to follow. This river needs banks so my good intentions don’t disperse and dissipate to other ends. Habits create channels for the spirit to follow, without having the burden of decision, that initial inertia, to overcome each time. Habits can take affections and transform them into effective energy. A habit is not a burden, but a gift that grace makes into a blessing.

Perhaps, like my sisters, I can put on a habit of prayer at particular times of the day, a pattern that repeats itself with the sun’s rising and setting. Perhaps I can live by a different sort of clock, a different sort of time. Perhaps I can clothe myself with a second nature that, by force of habit, stays put no matter what the day brings.

It’s not the tyranny of ritual, but the freedom of rhythm. It’s the worship of God through and with time. I have been given a finite number of hours and moments, and perhaps by ordering them firstly through prayer, the rest will find their fitting place. Time management through prayer? I’m willing to give it a try.

~lg