The Power of Prayer

When people meet me, they don't look at me and think, "That's one deeply religious woman." I guess my bold personality comes across as fitting a different stereotype. I am not a fall-down-on-your-knees-throw-your-hands-up-and-shout-it-out kind of prayer person, more a "Hey God, It's Me ... [Alicia]" kind of person. Some people may call this meditation. Others simple contemplation in moments of solitude. I call it prayer.

I generally do not ask for specific things. Mostly because of Mark Twain's The War Prayer...

If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon your neighbor at the same time. If you pray for a blessing of rain on your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse on some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

Instead, I often request the strength to get through a tough time or the courage to accept the outcomes I may encounter. I ask this for others also because as highlighted in Twain's poem, sometimes what we ask for is in complete contradiction to what another asks of God. Who am I to feel more deserving than another?

Recently I found myself in quite a predicament: the eve of an incredibly important presentation, I discovered my jump drive was missing. The jump drive with confidential client files and highly personal information was not where I left it. Initially I panicked, and had this happened about 2 or 3 years ago, I would have melted down... freaked my freak as a friend once said. I'm not sure if it was hitting my 30s and achieving a maturity closer to self-actualization, or perhaps, simply not being knee-deep in the school year's stresses, but within about 10 minutes I had calmed down. I quickly accepted that the jump drive would not be available for the presentation and went about finding another solution. Happily most of the documents I needed were, in some form or another, on my hard drive or other removable disks. I figured out how to proceed, and the meeting went very well.

But... I still did not have a hugely important item. My concern loomed over the information contained on the drive and how potentially harmful it could be in another's hands. When I realized there was no way I had left it outside of my own house, I chalked it up to God or the baby and figured, eventually, it would be found. Still there was this gnawing on my inside: where the hell did that thing go?

After much remembering, I narrowed it down to two locations in my house. Again, I self-soothed: when able, I would do a complete clean sweep of those areas. If it was still MIA, I could safely assume my naively helpful child attempted to clean out Mommy's purse and threw it away. I felt better knowing that some evil superpower was not in possession of my jump drive, using it to accomplish their dirty, dastardly deeds... but still, where the hell was it?

I prayed. Aloud and silently. I began daily prayers to St. Anthony, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please look around. Something is lost and cannot be found." I racked my brain, tried new places, and then prayed more.

Nay-sayers will claim I would have found it eventually, but what does it matter? I eventually stopped looking and focused only on my novena, if you would call it that, to St. Anthony. I hoped, if nothing else, for the memory of where I left it. As I was about to sort my laundry... shamefully, the 2nd time in only 10 days... a thought crossed my mind, "Wouldn't it be funny, if it was in my laundry basket?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes and got to sorting. Absurd. With about 2 items left to pull out, there it was: my jump drive. Sitting there as if this was its home. Waiting for me to discover it. Strewn in with my dirty clothing. It either fell off my bedside table and into the basket or was accidentally pulled along with the clothing during a bed sweep.

However it came to be, it was found. Thank you, St. Anthony. And thank you, good Lord in heaven, for keeping me calm and sane... mostly.

So, forgive me, readers, for being soap-boxy. But take a moment when you can for you. Call it prayer or meditation or deep thought or internal discussions with your multiple personalities or just a simple moment of silence. It doesn't matter the title, just do it. You may not realize the full import of this quick pause until you face an adversity so troublesome, you have no idea what to do that it really is easier to not do at all. You will find the strength to continue, whatever its source.

And hopefully, you've realized, it's about more than a jump drive.

PS

Oh yes, and we've had some fun things happen in the past few days (namely New Year's) of which I have no pictures so here is a list:
1. Grandma Jo visited.
2. Aunt Ra visited and brought Hanukkah Harry.
3. Liv went to bed right on time and slept all the way through until New Year's Day (yay!)!
4. Frank and I did not go to bed on time.
5. We all went to New Year's Day mass at OMGC, the start of their Jubilee Year!
6. We all went to a Timmy and Danielle's for a little New Year's Day party. Yay for brownies!
7. We saw Mom Mom, Pop Pop and Aunt Gina on Saturday.
8. We laid low on Sunday so we could all mentally prepare for going to work on Monday!

And that is a summary of our very exciting & busy life. This post occupied a good minute of your life that you will never get back. Good luck with that.

God loves Liv

Olivia's baptism was yesterday, June 21, 2009 -- Father's Day. Our church -- Our Mother of Good Counsel -- does many of the sacraments during Sunday masses. I love this about our parish. I feel like it truly welcomes those making the sacrament into the community. We are a community of faith, and it seems only right that our community is involved in such monumental occasions. And I forget how many of the parishoners know me ... well, knew me as the pregnant choir woman.

Anyway, the baptisms are done this way, and we opted for the 9:30am mass. Father Dennis presided, and The Holy Fathers choir sang. The gathering song during baptism weekend is always The Litany of the Saints, which is a favorite of mine and usually makes me tear up (Sunday was no different, despite the entire congregation staring at our family). Olivia looked adorable in her christening gown (thanks, Aunt Gi!) and sweater that my grandmother knitted way back when my cousins and I were baptized (thanks, Aunt Jo Marie, for sending it).

She was such a peach and slept through the whole mass. Even when Father Dennis poured water over her head, she only woke up a bit as if to say, "What are you doing that for?!" Then it was right back to sleep. Frank held her the whole time on account of the spica cast. Thank goodness the gown was nice and long with a little layer of crinoline; no one saw her bright red cast at all! Frank's sister, Gina, is Olivia's godmother, and my brother, Matt, is her godfather. They both did great during the mass, although, Father Dennis had to remind my brother that chewing gum is not really appropriate for God's house. I know that both of them will be incredibly wonderful godparents as Olivia ages. We may encourage her just a little bit more to contact Aunt Gi for questions about God and Catholicism but I don't think Uncle Matt will be too upset.

Aunt Gi and Uncle Matt with Olivia. Isn't she precious!






















Olivia, Frank, and I after her baptism -- still asleep, God bless her!