PrayingWithMyFingers

Dear God,

I am praying with (my fingers) and an audience this morning.  Lincoln & Reagan, of course, (the shih tuz’s), and “Aunt Vikki,” my daughter’s godmother are sitting close by. (She is visiting for a girls’ weekend - friends for 30+ years).

I am having a hard time getting focused, so I’ve decided to think of it like praying in church. At church I pray with lots of other people beside me and, frankly, some of my best prayers have arisen spontaneously that way.  It can be quite uncomfortable when I feel so full of Your Spirit that I cry for joy.  I have always suspected that most people probably think I am crying from shame.  Back to the “sinner” training I received as a child.  And, yes, there are those times when I feel full of regret for past actions (or currently ongoing actions) and cry sad tears over my crap also.

Yesterday, I escaped the dog crap.  Lunch with the boss and work afterward.  He accused me of wanting to be at the office to escape the dogs.  Well, I admit it.  It did feel good to get away even after only two dog days.  Dogs, like babies and children, can be all consuming.  I remember times when April was a baby that I was glad for the breather work gave me.  But then, I was always joyful to return.

This morning, I have to clean up the bunny crap in the closet.  I suspect we can attribute the bunnies in said closet to April’s Godmother (and maybe a little bit to me).  She and I went shopping shortly after April’s birth for her first stuffed animal.  We selected the softest, cutest stuffed bunny in the universe.  Somewhere along the line, April named him “Peter Rabbit.”  (She has always been so inventive with the naming:  i.e. Peter Rabbit, Cuddles, Fuzzy;-)

Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny were soon part of our evening story time reading.  Peter Rabbit (now 26 years old) has traveled April’s path every step of the way.  I used to wake her up in the morning by pretending to be the voice of Peter Rabbit.  Peter always made waking up lots more fun.  I think I saw him at her wedding rehearsal dinner too, but the idea of putting him in a tux for the wedding finally got nixed.

Peter Rabbit is even stored in the memory bank of our fights.  April swears that one time after a major Mother/Daughter fight, I threatened to burn Peter if she didn’t behave.  She, as she tells it, was traumatized.  (This must have been before my years of therapy).  Then she (we) graduated to a real live bunny that we tried to keep on the patio as a pet.  Big Bad mistake.  Bunny crap everywhere.  Needless to say, that bunny soon “ran away from home.”

So, I am remembering my Cracker Jack Box entry and my realization that I had reproduced the lost emerald ring in my life as an adult.  Now I see how April also is producing the important parts of her childhood in her adult life.  Her bunny, Cuddles, was rescued from the flea market and Fuzzy, appropriately black, was a consolation prize for a wedding that was ditched two weeks before the ceremony.  Bunny comfort again and the better end of that deal!

My point of this rambling entry is?  Maybe God, You would like me to remember that along with every bit of crap in my life there is also treasure.  Maybe God, You would have me remember that on the days when there is more crap than not, You are still with me every step of the way and that every pile of crap might have a pony (or a puppy or a bunny) in there somewhere!