Evolution of prayer life

My parents baptized us Catholic when we were babies or toddlers. Not because they believed but because it was the thing to do. More of a cultural thing with us being Italian, I think. Yet, it doesn't matter if they didn't believe. It was still a valid baptism and Catholics believe we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and Original Sin is washed away. So for that, I'm grateful even if my parents don't believe in God.

When I was around 7, my grandmother who was a Jehovah's witness, sent me their version of a children's bible. This was my introduction to God. I always wanted to know how the earth existed and I really thought it would be answered in a book. I guess it is! I remember seeing an illustration of Jesus on a pole with bloody holes in his hands and being horrified at the image. That was my introduction to Jesus. Even though the Jehovah's Witness don't believe in His divinity, I somehow knew He was pretty special. Maybe the televangelists on T.V. gave me some clues. I must have mentioned Him a few times because my big sister who was already out of the house on her own gave me a necklace of a tiny sand dollar and it had something to do with Jesus and had a little leaflet about Him and the sand dollar.

When I was a teenager, during the Cold War, I wrote in my diary to God. I was a bit fatalistic for a teenager. I told Him all my fears, anxieties and dreams. So as an un-churched kid, I still had a relationship with God. Before I became a practicing Catholic, I would get annoyed with those that called themselves "Chrisitan" who thought they were the only ones who had an exclusive relationship with God. I guess one would call that self exaltation. God will have a relationship with whomever He pleases and whomever asks! Nonetheless, I dabbled in the New Age and Occult because I was still developing my relationship with Him. It seemed He watched over me closely because He knew I wanted to know Him better. He didn't allow too much evil to overtake me. He was very patient. Sometimes He spoiled me when I prayed for things. I knew He'd answer somehow. He was so generous. He was building my trust in Him until He got me right where He wanted me. At a Catholic wedding, He was present in the Eucharist and He called out to me. I almost choked and tried to hide my tears. Building up to this moment, He showed up in my dreams as this unfinished cross. I found myself searching for a cross like the one in my dream. My husband, who is a cradle Catholic, saw there was a deeper meaning in the dream.(I'm pretty dense sometimes,) A year later I became a fully confirmed practicing Catholic.

My prayers were still shallow and self-centered. He still answered most of them like Santa Claus. Of course, I also prayed for friends and family who asked. The Catholic faith talks a lot about suffering. I kind of thought that was a drag. I had some setbacks so it wasn't all sweetness and light. But I didn't really want to face real insurmountable suffering.  I would drift in and out of my faith. My prayers were still about me or my children or friends who asked. They were shallow prayers to do with things I wanted for myself and my family. Not often about faith or what God wanted or the state of my soul. I'd see people around me struggle and have some real tough times. I would have to face the dreaded subject on suffering. I got more complacent and less interested in Church. But I knew I couldn't just chuck it. I'd hear a nagging voice in my head.

"You're getting older, people's parents are dying, people your age are dying, You're hiding from reality."

No, no, I don't want to think of such things. I know I'm blessed, (but for how long,)

I'd still go to Mass, reluctantly sometimes. My kids made it a little hard to really get into it since I'd have to keep them from being distracting to others. I started resenting having to go to Mass. Once I was there, I'd realize how pathetic my faith was and I'd think how I really needed to start praying the rosary again. Then I'd leave church and forget about my resolution.

I'd reminisce about how I felt in the early days of my conversion. How I would obsess about Jesus and His Church. I wondered what happened to that. One day at Mass, during the homily, the priest mentioned something amazing that happened and wondered why we never heard of it in the news.

"We only hear the bad things. What about the mother that died and came back to life and breast fed her baby three days later?"

I had been praying for God to bring me back in line. For some reason, this yanked me back. I finally picked up my rosary and I finally resolved to pray it. I've been praying it almost everyday since. My prayers became about deepening my faith, doing His will and dying to myself. My prayers became about wanting my husband and children to deepen their faith. That there would be the conversion of sinners. I ask for the conversion of my non-believing family members. I pray for souls in Purgatory. I've  learned about how to keep a spiritual journal and have used it as a way for God to talk to me.

Now God is asking what He wants of me. Now things are serious. Now it's about how I can serve Him. He challenges me and He's has taken the gloves off. He tells me I haven't surrendered completely. I haven't trusted in Him completely. He tells me what He expects of me and what I have to sacrifice. Last time in Adoration, I was in some turmoil about a situation that was weighing heavily on my heart. I wanted to rest in Him and lean on Him. His response was stern.

"Look at my Cross. Sometimes you have to succumb and submit to the cross with no relief and no comfort.  You have to experience the cross before you experience the peace... . I am with you always but it won't feel that way sometimes. Submit to the cross."



The gloves are off! I'm again, right where He wants me to be whether I like it or not. Jesus, I trust in You!

Onward Christian soldier!