a few months ago Ann at Holy Experience wrote about building a house of prayer, a house where even the moan of the woodfloors or the squeak door on its hinges could whisper a prayer. yes, i too wanted the noise of my life to somehow become prayer. and so i followed a few of Ann’s suggestions. i put The Divine Hours on hold at the library. i’ve prayed morning and evening prayer occasionally for years. but having all of the appointed readings and psalms in one place lends an ease and grace to the prayers. highly recommended.
i also made a place for a prayer. a place set apart. a place that might root me in the habits of prayer. here’s what i included:
- a plant–i knew i wanted something living, something green as we head into these dark days
- candles–again, light for our darkness
- icons of Mary–i needed someone who was also a mama
- hand-embroidered cloth–beauty from Bangladesh, a gift to celebrate the birth of our son
lest you think it’s all goodness and light here in St Johns, here’s a picture with a wider view.
yes, my place of prayer is just above the overdue library books and messy shoes. and that’s rather on purpose. prayer needs to happen in the middle of our lives, in the middle of our mess. there’s no place else, really. from psalm 23:
your goodness and your gracious love pursue me all my days.
your house, o Lord, shall be my home; your name my endless praise.