Lettuce Pray

When I was little, at the end of Mass, I would hear the priest say, "Lettuce Pray." I knew what he meant, but always in my mind, I pictured a big head of lettuce. And away my mind would wander. What's for lunch? When are we getting out of here? Concentration has never been a real strong point.

I also was a bit of a trouble maker as a child. I got in fights quite frequently (getting suspended for a day from elementary school in the 1970s took some serious effort), and I liked to cause discontent for some reason. I remember getting in trouble when, during my CCD class, I joked, "Hail Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow..." My teacher was not amused.

Prayer had a tendency to make me nervous and sometimes still does. As a staff, we pray every Wednesday for about forty minutes. At times I feel 8 years old again. I fidget. I have to redirect my mind again and again.

Lately we have been praying for specific staff members. This is good in so many ways, and it is good for me personally, but I can't say it is completely comfortable. It's so powerful sometimes it makes me feel like I might cry. I don't like loss of control. Not anywhere, and especially not in a group setting.

I marvel at people who seem to pray ceaselessly, as Paul commands the Thessalonians. I wish I was someone who could sit still for more than a few minutes and not allow my mind to wander.

But it turns out it's not just me. Paul tells the Romans, "we do not know how to pray as we ought." (Romans 8:26). We'll never get it perfectly right. God doesn't demand that anyway. He wants effort, not effortless words. I keep telling myself that, and then as you would a small child, I redirect myself back to Him.

So lettuce pray.