At Least They're Committed

There’s a sweet meme floating around with an image of a person holding a sleeping baby. The gist of it is that should we fall asleep while praying, it is no more ‘wrong’ than an infant fading into slumber while being sung a lullaby. In essence, you’re falling asleep in God’s arms. That’s so lovely!

Unfortunately, when I’m praying I don’t typically doze off. My mind instead tends to wander and fuss starting at approximately one prayer in — after I’ve done the initial sign of the cross, and before I’ve closed it off — when I have the open line to God and the angels.

I can just see the heavenly hosts up there who might be tasked with listening to me as I finish the Lord’s Prayer, start the Hail Mary and then trail off into tomorrow’s meetings, why do I now have to hold the handle down on the toilet in my bathroom, and did I put the chickens away? AND THERE IS STILL NO SUCH THING AS AN MSG ALLERGY! Stop grinding your teeth! What day is it? Did Garth leave the iron on?

I shake out of it. “Blessed are you and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.”

Hallelujah and thank you, Lord! (Maybe?) I survived last week’s graduation, but it would have been so much more meaningful if people who, yes, I understand won’t get over it would just get on with it. Oh, right, that’s one of the things I’m praying for, in addition to my thanks and insights on why I’m here. Gosh, I’m sorry! Where was I? “Now and at the hour of our death, amen.”

As I’m failing to fade off into sleep while saying the prayers of Saint Francis and Saint Jude, I can’t help but think that fun can’t be done. How does one qualify or quantify fun? A couple of posts back, I did a laundry list of pros and cons in my life as I turned 62. “All the best things in life are wrapped between unlikable elements of living,” I wrote. And this past week has placed the exclamation point on that notion.

Fun?

• The flights were fine, Philadelphia scary, Philly Steak at Geno’s Steaks, awesome!
• Meth-heads trying to get us to follow them to the bar (despite two of the five of us being 14 and 12) noting that “Sam” was DJing and he’s “great” … troubling, to say the least.
• Ocean City was beautiful, the fall colors were “Wow!” The boardwalk, brilliant and graduation, prideworthy and yet worrisome.
• Atlantic City? Ha! Wicked.
• Oh, and no sleep — suuuuucked.

Wait! Where was I? Stop it, you silly brain!

“Where there is hatred, let me sow love . . “

Yep, there it is! Three days sliced out of the middle of the week where I was out of town and going nonstop. Yay me! Yay all of us! We survived. Am I happy about it? Is there a way to qualify or quantify happiness? Yeaaaaah, noooooo.

“For it is in giving that we receive, in pardoning that we are pardoned, and in dying that we’re born to eternal life. Amen.”

I cross myself in closing and sigh, apologizing to God the angels and any other heavenly hosts who had to endure my tedium and wishing maybe, if they could just sing me a lullaby?