Good morning…
When I was a little girl growing up in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio, I remember a regular summertime ritual. I would make myself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and enjoy a private picnic, perched on a mossy patch between two bushes, beside a tiny ditch of trickling water. I would daydream and dawdle. Looking. Listening. Lounging. Fresh air and feelings were my best friends. Time would pass with me outside, alone, nurtured by nature. For the first time truth dawns: my private picnics were my first form of prayer.
Fast forward about fifty years and now I regularly make my lunch of leftovers and I sit still in silent solitude on our back porch. Surrounded by sunshine, squirrels, and a small slice of heaven, I daydream and dawdle. Looking. Listening. Lounging. Fresh air and feelings are still my best friends. Time passes slowly as my true self is deeply nurtured by nature. My outdoor lunches are not long, but I recognize them now as a long-standing ritual of life-giving prayer.
How about you? Thinking back on yourself as a child, what regular rituals may have been your first form of prayer? How are those seeds still growing in your current prayer garden?
As often as possible Jesus withdrew to out-of-the-way places for prayer (Luke 5:16, MSG).
…Sue…
