If prayer has power, then here's one for those of us who need all the help we can get!
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details--give me wings to get to the point.
I ask for grace enough to listen to the tales of others' pains. Help me to endure them with patience. But seal my lips on my own aches and pains--they are increasing and my love of rehashing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.
Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally it is possible that I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a saint. Some of them are so hard to live with. But a sour old person is one of the crowning works of a life gone astray.
Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Make me thoughtful, but not moody; helpful, but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all--but Thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end. Amen (Anonymous)
Isn't that an adorable prayer? Why do I think it's adorable? Because I can relate to it, that's why. I'm walking through the frickin' doors of Geezer Kingdom. Oh, I don't want to focus on aging again, because I adore young people. They are here not of their own accord, so why not lay out some blueprints for them so when they get to where I am, they'll be able to build their own walls to keep them sheltered from life's unexpected stormy surprises.
Okay, so here's another question: Is the need to pray born into us? Or, is that our knee-jerk reaction from years of religious schooling? I can remember my mom teaching me to pray when I was very little. We'd pray, "God bless momma, daddy, my sibling, and then list off grammas, grampas, aunts, uncles, and special cousins and special friends." She taught me to fold my hands when I prayed. That early lesson in prayer was closely akin to potty training.
Regardless, the older I get, the more I find myself praying. I truthfully must admit that I'm not exactly sure who or what I'm praying to, but I feel there's a Force out there, a Divine Planner. Not necessarily a guy wearing a white robe studded with diamonds surrounded by flying naked babies. No, I don't have enough money to buy that.
My prayers are different now than they used to be. Now I thank. Every night I review the high spots of my day, how grateful I am for the gift of our good health, our retirement, the gift of my little family, my little house, my simple life, and my world of dear friends, and even those across the globe who read my blog. My list of thank-yous is endless, really. So, I say a blanket prayer, one that covers everything.
Yesterday we lazied around the house, watched football, racing, the cooking channel, we napped, and actually I stayed in my jammies all day. In the evening my hubby fixed us girls pork chop and dressing supper. I'm not sure we deserved such a plate of yummies, but we, again, were thankful for the fact that we live with a guy who loves to cook.
I see there's a slight fog or mist out again. One of these days we'll be seeing the white stuff. I don't have to shovel snow, so, again, something to be grateful for. Guess I'm spoiled, or loved. One or the other. I'd say it's the latter.
The floor lamp beside me is lit. It's a small lamp that we bought at a thrift store. Both of us clammed onto it at the same time....just what we had been searching for. It provides me enough light to read, but doesn't light up the whole room. The fireplace is lit and the flickering yellow flames are pretty in the semi-darkness. Some years back we converted our fireplace over to an electric insert. We got to where cutting wood was too much work, plus burning wood made such a mess. Now with a switch of a button a most-genuine looking fire magically appears.
Gosh, I see the trolley is waiting, so I'd best hop on. Ta-ta for today!
Today's Quote: An expert is someone who tells you a simple thing in a confused way in such a fashion as to make you think the confusion is your fault. -William Castle