Sunday, April 3, 2011

everything changes

I am always a lame prayer buddy (nothing has changed there - it's one of the reasons I participate so infrequently), but I am really really trying to step up in daily prayer during Lent (preparatory to keeping up better habits after Lent is over), and so my prayer buddy will (one hopes) profit from that.

Today I worked on my substantial Rosary deficit while I cooked a big batch of food for the women's spiritual reflection tomorrow night. Bracketing the issue of doing chores on Sunday (I know it's not good, but I never seem to get everything done; my time is never my own), I find it easy to meditate on the mysteries doing a mindless chore, and with my hands occupied, I become less restless. When I was in college, some friends and I picked up a habit of saying "Jesus, protect and save the unborn" at the end of each decade after the Glory Be and the "Oh, my Jesus" prayer (I had to look the title up - it's called the Fatima Prayer). I never add it when I pray the Rosary with people outside of that group of college friends (I don't mean to imply that I regularly pray group Rosaries - every once in a great while, really), but I realized that when I pray by myself, I always say it.

Back in college, we were all involved in pro-life work (I know this contravenes my no-politics-on-the-blog policy, but it seems essential to the vignette), and I was very passionately attached to that intention. I was well-versed in the facts surrounding the abortion controversy; I knew, for example, that almost a third of pregnancies in the United States end in miscarriage, and nearly another third in abortion. I very much doubt most Americans know that only about a third of babies conceived are ever born (I'm not aware that this statistic is in any way controversial; I think some googling and a calculator would get you there).

It occurred to me as I prayed a few decades today that my pressing desire for our Lord to protect the unborn no longer refers itself to the unborn children who are endangered by the fact that their mothers do not want them. Now, at the forefront of my mind are those unborn children whose mothers lay down every night to sleep afraid that the babies will no longer be alive in the morning. One more way in which I could never have imagined ten years ago that I would be here.

1 comment:

  1. This is very sweet. Although I'm not very religious, I like to know that you're praying for the unborn little ones.

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