Google+ Followers

Thursday, February 7, 2013

The Moment I Wake Up...

(You know where this is going, right?)... before I put on my make-up.... (that's right, I'm channelling Dionne**).... I say a little prayer for you! 

     It's been in my head all day. It's true, though. After I drag my sorry butt out of bed, already having pushed snooze twice, watched the clock with the right time change over to 5:55, and untangled my legs from whichever child crawled into bed and intertwined with me, trying not to disturb the 75 lb dog who has wiggled his way between Mr. Jones and me, I stumble into the bathroom and that's when the prayers start. While the shower heats up, Our Father Who Art In Heaven... Wetting my hair... Hail Mary, full of grace... Shampoo... Oh my Jesus, forgive me my sins.... My Queen, my Mother, I give you all of myself....Conditioner...My Jesus, help me to be a beacon of Your light..., and somewhere between the Dove soap and facial scrub, I speak to 5 of the Archangels (Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Chamuel and Raphael) asking them to shield me, protect me and guide me through the day. I ask to clear blockages, lift negativity, ground energy, push aside my ego, keep me "sign posted", and to fill me with Divine Love that overflows onto everyone I meet. And that IS before I put on my make-up. Those are just the prayers I say for myself.
      The rest of the day is pretty much a series of nonstop prayers for other people. Driving to work: please surround D-, in healing light. Lift any anxiety off of J-. Shield Mr. Jones and "all my children" in white light and protect them from all negativity. Walking down the hall: that kid has been really sad lately, lift his sadness and fill him with love. There's C-, surround her in Divine love so that she can heal the scars of her broken heart and move forward. There's J, help her find the answers she needs to help her son who is being bullied. C is trying to get pregnant, help her to surrender to the process. It goes on and on like that in between explanations of cell function, parent meetings, making photocopies, and discussing science fair projects. But you get it... I pray A LOT! Even sometimes while I'm teaching, someone I care about will pop into my head at random and "I say a little prayer" for them. 
Michelangelo, The Creation Of Adam
     I know this is not typical. I realize that I have a faith that is unlike most people's, and I am not saying that everyone should spend their day in prayer that way, but there is a reason why I pray so much. I know it works. My life has been transformed through prayer. I have seen other people's lives change dramatically, as well.
     A few months ago, I was at a birthday party. I didn't know the hostess that well (Mrs. S), but I felt immediately comfortable with her. I had the extreme joy of connecting to her late parents that night. And if I remember correctly, an aunt as well. I don't remember that much of the reading, but I do remember that they were quite upset with her as she had lost her faith. They were saying over and over again that she needed to pray. That she needed to count her blessings. Her parents' names were *Anne and Anthony. Her father showed me a bunch of religious statues. I recognized Saint Anthony, and asked Mrs. S if she prayed through him. She said, "all the time." When I finally left, Mrs. S was in tears, and when I kissed her goodbye, I felt very blessed because knew I had delivered the message that God wanted her to hear. Driving home, They showed me (in my head) a St. Anthony medal that was in the junk drawer of my nightstand. I understood immediately that I had to find it and give it to Mrs. S. Sure enough, I opened the drawer and shoved in the back were 2 prayer cards with medals attached to them. One was Saint Anthony, the other was Saint Anne. (I didn't even know they were there, nor did I know where they came from.) So I sent them to her. A few days later, I received a beautiful thank you card saying that she was wearing the medals everyday and that she had begun to pray and count her blessings. She had shifted her thinking from, "God, why did You make my life so hard?" to "Thank You God, for the many blessings I have." A few months later, I saw her again at a birthday party. She showed me her medals, and said, "I have been praying everyday, and I feel so much better." Something prompted me to ask her about her job. She was working for a daycare and was extremely underpaid. She told me that recently, that she had considered leaving, but a voice in her head told her to stick it out. After a series of unforeseen circumstances, she was given a substantial raise, and her work conditions improved tremendously. By shifting her thoughts to prayers of gratitude, she was rewarded with more blessings. When she finally gave her heart to God, suddenly her life began to change. This is why I pray.
     Yes, I say a lot of prayers. And some are the ones taught by the religion I choose to affiliate myself with, but most of them are just little conversations with God and His angels. That's all a prayer has to be. A simple thought with the intention for God to hear it. He knows it's meant for Him. He hears everything your heart cries out for. The thing is, since He gave you free will, He cannot help you unless you give Him permission. You have to ask. And once you do, you open the door for miracles. If you don't ask, the door stays closed. The choice is yours. Just say a little prayer. That's all there is to it.

(Today, I thank God for the opportunity to connect everyday with so many beautiful souls. >3!)

*Amazingly, I just found out that the day I posted this was the anniversary of the Anne's death. I didn't know it at the time. I don't usually post on a school night, but for some reason I felt it HAD to be posted that day, Feb 7. It wasn't until I shared it with "Mrs. S," that I learned the significance of the date. I remind you, there are NO coincidences. What a beautiful way to honor her.  I feel blessed to have been chosen to do so.

**"I Say A Little Prayer" was written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David for Dionne Warwick in 1967

No comments:

Post a Comment