I’ve been pondering prayer, so my next few posts will likely be on this topic.

I’ve always struggled with the LDS concept of prayer. I love the idea of expressing myself to God, but even as a kid I wasn’t comfortable with the prescribed process of prayer. The heightened language, finding a place to pray out loud, the “script” of giving thanks then asking for what we need felt like it separated me from God rather then bringing me closer to my Parents. My prayers tend be thoughts directed towards my concept of God, and tend to be more conversation then following the pattern.

My practice of thinking conversations at God works well for me, but then I go to church and am told that I’m doing to wrong. I worry if I’m using “vain repetitions,” that I don’t use formal language, that I don’t vocalize. There was a quote in the most recent General Conference that many people posted on Facebook: “Prayer only works if used as prescribed.” Clearly this was inspiration for many, but I found it depressing. If I don’t pray in the prescribed way, does that mean my prayers aren’t heard? That they are less important? If we accept the idea that we have Heavenly Parents, my parents don’t just listen to me when I talk in a certain way. They listen to me on the phone, in email, in person. They listen when I yell, when I cry, when I’m excited. They listen to my words, my body language, my mood. So why can I only communicate with my Heavenly Parents in one way?

I realize and appreciate that the LDS mode works for many people. I’m just not one of them. I pray differently and feel heard, but when I pray in the way I’m “supposed” to, I feel uncomfortable and it’s hard for me to express myself. So while God is listening, I can’t feel it because I’m not feeling like myself. So my questions are, why is it so important to pray out loud, with heightened language, etc., and are my prayers not heard, and will they not work, because I’m not “praying as prescribed?”

The other morning I ran up Tumamoc hill. First time I’ve ever been able to run up the whole thing: It’s short, 1.5 miles to the top for a quick 3 mile round trip; but brutal steep: you climb up 730 ft in that 1.5 miles. I’ve jogged parts of it before but always had to stop and walk those last few switchbacks. This was an invigorating first for me and Tumamoc.

I like my hills all in one gulp, straight up, the condensed version. There are plenty of trails and roads where I can get nice rolling, gentle-up-gentle-down routes depending on my hiking, running and biking needs. But I really find myself attracted to the intense all or nothing versions: Tumamoc, Blacketts Ridge, Saguaro National Monument, Mt Lemmon highway, Josephine Saddle (or, when I have the whole day, continuing on from Josephine Saddle up to the peak of Mt Wrightson). Etc.

I love hills and mountains. I broke my belief system wide open on these hills and mountains. It’s no wonder to me that many religions hold journeys up mountains for spiritual enlightenment as part of their mythos. I’ve queried and cursed and argued with God on these hills and mountains. Halfway up Mt Wrightson, muscles shaking and drenched in sweat, I broke with God and offered some of my first prayers to the Goddess (a terrifying step for one raised on stories of women excommunicated for such blasphemy). Eventually, I broke with divinities all together and these hills and mountains became the place for just processing whatever needs processing in my life.

It is amazing the ideas and possibilities that open up to a heart pumping faster and a mind flooded with endorphins. (I have to be careful, I have shot off dangerous emails while still high on a good hill.)

It is something I believe in: blood and body fluids. In heart and mind. In always looking for new ideas, new paths, new heights to reach.

And hills and mountains,
I believe in hills and mountains.

Like Mary, I’m a “ponder it in your heart” gal.  There’s a running dialogue in my head to God, a constant prayer in my heart which is a lovely, comforting thing. But sometimes it means I find myself praying for help with really silly things. Things that some would say are inappropriate supplications–like trying to find a parking space, that my jury duty will be cancelled, or trying to find Vodka for my 10 year-old’s birthday party. Okay, that last one requires some explanation.

We are a house of JK Rowling fans, so it was no surprise when Georgia wanted a Harry Potter themed party.  Let’s do potions, I suggested, and started researching how to make simple perfumes and lip glosses. All the perfume recipes called for alcohol, and I just assumed it meant the rubbing variety.  Silly Mormon me.

Stocked to the gills with essential and perfumed oils to which Georgia had given Hogwarty names, I decided to reread the recipe.  OOPS. I needed a “scentless alcohol, like Eveclear or Vodka. Do NOT use rubbing alcohol!” I started to freak out as there was no way I could get to the liquor store and back before the dozen girls arrived.

When I panic, my prayers intensify. I don’t remember the words exactly, but my plea was one that I never thought I’d utter, “Dear Lord, I need me some Vodka stat!” As soon as I spoke it aloud I knew immediately I had to call my visiting teaching companion.

“Linda, I need Vodka!”I was preparing to launch into my bizarre explanation but she cut me off: “How much? I have a liter and can be right over.” I burst out laughing and said a second prayer of gratitude for the well stocked shelves of my dear gourmet friend.

A trivial and possibly inappropriate request? Sure, but when I examine the Savior’s life, his sermons and doings are filled with small, ordinary things: lost coins, stray sheep, widow’s mites, lilies of the field, loaves of bread.  As a mom, my life is ruled by the ordinary, the trivial, the small. I deal with lost lunch tickets, stray gerbils, the multiplication of fractions, and lots of owies, both physical and emotional. As a Mormon, it can be tempting to look at the Savior, the creator of heaven and earth and feel like my trials and traumas are pretty inconsequential by comparison. But I truly believe that is not how God sees our lives. There’s a lovely scripture that reassures us regular folk that our efforts are not beneath the Lord’s notice: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.”( D&C 64:33)

After all, Jesus’ first public miracle was to turn water into wine for a wedding feast. If the Lord cares about party beverages, why wouldn’t he care about Georgia’s party favors? I’ve truly come to believe that God is mindful of all our trials and triumphs.  If it matters to us, it matters to Him. And that is no small thing.

January: The last bud of the season.

Spring 2009.  I awoke one morning to a future that seemed frighteningly uncertain and months of prayers that seemed unanswered. Limbs achy with anxiety.  I’m sure you know the feeling . . .

That morning, as I left for work, a bush at the base of our steps met me with an explosion of color; a dozen or more petite roses in full bloom. I had not known this was a rose bush.  I had not noticed the buds forming. The bush had not bloomed the year before.  I tearfully plucked one flower and pressed it in my wallet.

At least one rose kept constant vigil until the mid-January snowstorms finally pushed it into hibernation. This past April, on a day that seemed particularly bright, with an unexpected opportunity unfolding, the bush became enflamed once more.

Sign-seeking is dangerous business (sign-seekers in the scriptures don’t end particularly well . . . ).  And aren’t signs usually created in retrospect? The rainbow on the blind date that led to marriage – a sign! The other rainbows on all those other afternoons are forgotten, with no outcomes to secure their place in our emotional narratives.

Prayer Tree by Janet Chui

I’m not generally an eye closer during prayers. Nor am I an arm folder. If I’m in a public space like church, I tend to slightly bow my head so as to not make any other non-eye closers too uncomfortable. Most of my personal prayers occur as I lie in bed before I sleep. I’m not a kneeler, either.

I’ve not ever thought much about this before, but now that we have a three year old, I’m seeing my child being taught prayer postures that don’t resonate with me personally. It’s caused me to think a little more deeply about why I don’t conform to typical Mormon prayer posturing.

I found an article* about eye positioning during prayer helpful as I thought about this question. According to the author Ellis, members of Abrahamic religions tend to view deity as an “intra-tribal rank superior.” In other words, the same way these ancient people approached their social superiors with supplications, they approach their deity with supplication. This usually involves lowering the eyes and head in order to not appear challenging or demanding. Contemporary Mormonism seems to fall into this category.

One exception to this generalization about Abrahamic religions is Marian worship. Catholic or Eastern Orthodox adherents tend to approach Mary with a direct gaze, seeking out visual reciprocity. They often look at icons and pray to her simultaneously. The submissive lowering of head and eyes is not present. Ellis postulates that this is because these adherents are approaching deity not as an “intra-tribal rank superior” but instead as an “attachment figure,” just as babies and young children approach with eyes open the loving mother or father.

Interesting. Does my lack of desire to close my eyes and bow my head mean that I think of deity more like Catholics think of Mary? Do I approach deity as loving parents, rather than social superiors? Do I want to emphasize our similarities and talk to them as loving friends, rather than focus on the vast difference of our hierarchical positions?

Yes, I think I do.

*Natural Gazes, Non-Natural Agents: The Biology of Religion’s Ocular Behaviors” by Thomas B. Ellis in the book The Biology of Religious Behavior

It has happened several times now in the past week: While driving, my mind wanders (there’s a lot for it to wander around in right now). Thinking through circumstances, wondering about actions made and decisions coming up…
When suddenly…
I realize I’ve taken a wrong turn. I’m on a street or highway I hadn’t planned on being on (and am not sure how I got there.)

******
I used to be the sort of suspicious individual who would see all sorts of signs and messages from the universe in this sort of thing.

Now a days, I just think I need to start paying more attention while I’m driving. Leave off pondering for when I am not behind the wheel.