Over the past few weeks, Sister Dorothy and I have gotten into the routine of saying prayers together in the evening. I have learned to navigate my way through the various parts of the prayer book, and the routine has become a relaxing way to end the day. On one particular evening, I found myself falling into the routine, and when it came time to say the “Our Father,” I clasped my hands together as I’d been taught to pray from a young age. As I unfolded my hands, Sister Dorothy mentioned that she prays the “Our Father” with her hands open, whether raised in church or laying on her lap in private prayer. It’s a way to show that you are open to giving and receiving God’s love rather than holding onto it too tight. Ever since that evening, I have made sure to pray the “Our Father” with open hands and let the rest of my being follow, and I am still amazed at how different the words feel when I let myself go.
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When I was in elementary school, I remember my PSR (CCD) teacher once saying that faith is not something that you can pick up when you go to mass on Sunday and then forget about the rest of the week. While I had found occasional ways of integrating my faith into the course of a week, I was still locked into the routine of distinguishing Sunday from the days when I did not attend mass. As a part of the faith community at the Motherhouse, however, the routine of a faith-filled life gives me the feel that every day is a Sunday, and time itself seems to take on a different rhythm.
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