When Life Takes Over

I will admit right up front that as I write I am drinking Mystic Monk coffee and eating Girl Scout Thin Mints, my Saturday morning breakfast. I gave up on the more traditional breakfast foods like yogurt and granola because we are out of yogurt. And granola. Not to mention decent bread for toast. We do have coffee though, without which I would not even be upright. We got home at the late-ish hour of 9:30 last night after our daughter's first ever play-off basketball game, which they lost. It was too late to run to the store to re-stock, and anyway we had to console a tired and disappointed 12 year old.

This morning the cats all got up before we did and helped themselves to WAY too much dry food, and in the process spilled much of it on the pantry floor. In the meantime our lovely and energetic daughter, disappointment and tiredness vanquished from a good night's sleep, launched into a craft project which requires that materials be strewn about in several rooms at the same time and Mom be consulted about colors and the like.

So breakfast by default took a back seat and here I am, doing what I taught my daughter never to do, eating cookies for breakfast.

Have I said a single morning prayer? Made the sign of the cross? Even thought about God until this moment? Of course not. Everyone who has ever suggested that prayer be a part of every day, beautifully intertwined with one's daily existence (I have done so myself) is invited to my house next Saturday morning when I imagine the same sort of thing will happen. One of the cats will vomit, while the other two will steal someones breakfast, the plumbing will back-up, and the exterminator will arrive to do his rounds. I promise.

On top of this, MY TEETH STILL HURT.

I am going back to the dental office this morning, this time to see the weekend guy, to see if they can't somehow put me out of my misery. Hammers, tongs, bowling balls....whatever.

Maybe in the car on the way to the dentist I can say a few prayers, but it will be nothing like the quiet, orderly prayer time depicted in Rumer Godden's novel, "In This House of Brede", which portrays a life I long to escape into on days such as today. A set time to pray. A beautiful and quiet place to pray in. People who want you to pray before you do anything else.

Instead I am going to go to the store and purchase some reasonably healthy food, and then I will mop the floor and check on the plumbing. And then I will go to the dentist. After that, who knows? I will try to make myself available to my family and to whatever our Lord has in store for me. Maybe this is what people mean when they say "Life is a prayer." Life has certainly taken over and left little time for the focused, quiet kind of prayer I enjoy at adoration. But I am called to this life. And if the best I can do is muster up smiles and good humor through the day, perhaps that is a form of prayer after all.