A Prayer for My Children (part 2)

Jun 14th, 2013 by

Today’s post is the second of a three-part prayer for our children, adapted from an Orthodox akathist to Mary the Mother of God. If you missed or would like to reread the first four sections of the prayer, you can do so here on my site or over at Godspace.

Luke_with_lion_and_lamb

A Prayer for My Children

Prelude 5

May the Morning Star, which is Our Lord Jesus Christ, shine with unfading light in the hearts of my children, that they may cry to God: Alleluia.

 

Song 5

Having seen my diligent supplication rising like incense to You, do not turn away Your face from my children, even if they turn away from You. Hear the cry of my lips, singing to You:

Raise my children to be poor in spirit, that they may inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.
Raise my children to weep, that they may be comforted.
Raise my children to be meek, that they may inherit the earth.
Raise my children to hunger and thirst after righteousness, that they may be filled.
Raise my children to be merciful, that they may obtain mercy.
Raise my children to be pure in heart, that they may see God.
Raise my children to be peacemakers, that they may be called the children of God.
Raise my children (names), O Christ, to be made worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven and make them heirs of eternal blessings.

 

Prelude 6

We proclaim that You are the defense of orphans, widows, and mothers, and of all Your children who pray and cry out to You: Alleluia.

 

Song 6

With rays of grace teach my children. May they be so enlightened by You, O Most High, that they see Your path leading to life eternal and follow it. May they be nourished on their journey beneath Your all-powerful protection, in the shadow of Your wings, where there is unending light. For the sake of this, hear me when I cry to You, O God:

Raise my children to be the light of the world, that their light may shine before others, and that seeing their good deeds, people will glorify their Father in Heaven.
Raise my children to be enlightened by Your Son, that in His light they may see light and direct their steps towards Him.
Raise my children always to turn the eyes of their heart to the Redeemer of all.
Raise my children to be guided to the habitation of the righteous by the Morning Star which is Your Son.
Raise my children to be meek and silent and to tremble before the word of God.
Raise my children to love You, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, not only with their minds but also with their hearts.
Raise my children (names), O Christ, to be made worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven and make them heirs of eternal blessings.

 

Prelude 7

Desiring for my children eternal salvation, with tears I stand before You, O God, and cry: Alleluia.

 

Song 7

By the wondrous and incomprehensible action of Your Son, lead my children by Your merciful hand beneath Your gracious protection. I cry to You:

Raise my children to seek first the Kingdom of God and Your righteousness.
Raise my children to walk the narrow way leading to life eternal.
Raise my children to do Your will in every place.
Raise my children to long to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.
Raise my children to be numbered among Your chosen ones.
Raise my children (names), O Christ, to be made worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven and make them heirs of eternal blessings.

 

Prelude 8

Where will my children, wandering in the greatly perilous and stormy valley of the world, receive joy and consolation, if not in You, O Lord? Travel with them and teach them the true path, that they may cry to You: Alleluia.

 

Song 8

You are a merciful Mother to all, O Jesus, and I desire that I may become Your child. I place my children in Your hands and in humility I beg You:

Raise my children to keep vigil and pray that they may not fall into temptation.
Raise my children to be merciful so that their Father in Heaven will be merciful to them.
Raise my children in purity of childhood, for to children belongs the Kingdom of God.
Raise my children to be the least of all, that they may be great before God.
Raise my children to fulfill the Word of God, and to be partakers of the heavenly blessedness for which they came into being.
Raise my children to have good hope in the Kingdom of Heaven.
Raise my children (names), O Christ, to be made worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven and make them heirs of eternal blessings.

 

This prayer was crossposted over at Godspace today.

Tags: , ,

Posted in Growing in God, Raising kids | No Comments »

Fall

Jun 7th, 2013 by

This post is my first attempt at Five-Minute Friday, hosted by Lisa Jo Baker. The rules: write for five minutes in response to the prompt (in today’s case, the word fall) without editing, rewriting, revising.

And, well, my first time out, I cheated: I did a tiny bit of rewriting, changing some pronouns and the order of a line. But I think that’s okay?

Special thanks to Kris Camealy who introduced me to this challenge. Here goes.

Yellow_Maple_Leaf1

Fall

Fall in love.
Fall from grace.
Fall off a cliff.
Fall of the year when the leaves turn gold and scarlet and saffron.
Fall of rain in the forest.
Fall of life when your body weakens, ages, but you’re still vibrant and alive.
Fall of tears on your face.
Fall of leaves from the plum trees in your backyard.
Fall of plums, rotting in the grass.
Fall of your child running, tripping, skinning her knee on the sidewalk.
Fall of your baby’s feet as he toddles to the kitchen to hug his dad.
Fall of water in the shower, soaking, restoring, as you scrub face, body, hair.
Fall of faith when the voices of doubt scream and it’s hard hard hard to believe.
Fall on your knees in prayer, pain, praise, agony, joy.
Fall into grace.
Fall in love.

 

 
 
Five Minute Friday

Tags: , ,

Posted in Writing | 5 Comments »

Drinking Violets

Jun 7th, 2013 by

From her feet the ground sloped sharply into the view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems, collecting into pools in the hollows, covering the grass with spots of azure foam. But never again were they in such profusion; this terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth.

—E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

violets of 2013

I am weary. My word-well is empty. I have nothing to say. Writing, which usually brings me such joy, feels like a chore. I’d rather sleep.

Susan says I spent all my words on my book. She might be right. All I want to do is read, read, read—my way, perhaps, of restocking my empty well.

Or perhaps it’s my way of avoiding my fear.

Because let’s face it, I feel weary in part because I am afraid. I am afraid my book, which will be published this fall, will tank. I am also, sometimes, afraid it will sell far better than I expect.

In some ways, I think the former would be easier. I’m used to failure—I have boxes of it sitting in my basement—and I play the victim well, cheerfully and nobly putting a brave face on things. It’s all very self-conscious of course, with an air of martyrdom that’s especially laughable because I’m taking myself so seriously.

I can wallow in these fears—and believe me, I do, far too often—and cower before them, or I can view them as a call to prayer. St. Paul calls this taking every thought captive for Christ. I don’t manage to capture every thought. The way my thoughts swirl like a windswept tumbleweed, or sometimes a tornado, it’s more like one in a hundred, or a thousand, but it’s a start.

The key to turning fear into prayer is attention—as soon as I notice that I’m spinning out a fantasy about my book becoming a runaway bestseller and my getting a big head about it and then cranking out a sequel and accepting every speaking opportunity that’s thrown my way and working way too much and ruining my relationships with my husband and kids and God and my life falling apart around me—or maybe it’s about my book selling fewer copies than I need to recoup our family’s investment and we’re stuck in this tiny house for the rest of our lives and we all go crazy because we’re literally living on top of one another and I end up in a mental institution while my kids have to be medicated to keep them from falling off the deep end—the moment I realize I’m spinning, that’s the time to pray. Yes, right in the middle of the unraveling fantasy, I have to turn my attention away from the scary story I’m telling myself and toward the God who calms all fear, who is the Love that casts out fear, who is the strength I need to face whatever comes.

And after I’ve turned the fear into a prayer, it’s a good idea to pick up whatever novel I’m in the middle of and start reading. Getting swept up into a good story is another wholesome antidote to fear. Speaking of which, E.M. Forster is calling to me from my bedside table: George has just stolen a kiss from Lucy in that wellspring of the world’s beauty, a terrace of violets, and I really must go see what happens next.

And if I’m really lucky, the violets on the terrace will not just distract me from my fear but also restock that dried up word-well of mine. Here’s hoping.

 

Photo by John Lodder, Creative Commons via Flickr.

This post was crossposted over at A Deeper Church.

Posted in Growing in God | 2 Comments »

Older Posts »