Most of us know the sweet calm that descends in the evening when all the children are tucked in for the night. That hour varies, depending on their ages. In the early years, one’s ears are still perked for the rustle of hungry babes or toddlers needing comfort; and as the children proceed through the school years, bedtime is a function of the hour of morning departures and the demands of homework. As it should be.

But then there is the next phase, when the teenagers get drivers’ licenses, jobs, and social lives. One might lie in bed, staring at the clock, praying for the rattle of the doorknob, and wondering, just wondering. The arrivals come later and later, the “good nights” more evasive and hurried, and we sigh in relief that at least all heads are accounted for. It is a nightly ritual – as it should be.

If we consider our petitions to God for the needs of our children – body and soul – we know that there are rare times that we have nothing to ask for. We beg for their health, their friendships, their teachers, and their coaches. We want them safe, challenged, and appreciative of the love in their lives. Day by day, we ask, we needle, we agonize, and we show our own appreciation for prayers answered. It’s what we do.

Moreover, there are our husbands, our parents, and our siblings, there are the co-workers and the neighbors, the cars, the bills and the appliances, and of course ourselves. So many intentions, day after day – is there any respite?

Asking for our “Daily Bread”

In one sense, the answer would be No. The prayer that Our Lord handed us, the ultimate prayer, indicates that the intentions would continue, that the needs would be ever present, and that we should get used to an attitude of deference and childlike humility. Just as a toddler must ask for his juice, his toys, his playtimes, and his snacks, we ask for things we are not able to manage ourselves. While we know that our health is beyond our total control, we will have to acknowledge that all good things are gifts which we cannot guarantee. This is a lesson that has been hard in my life.

I have clung to a particular promise from God, that if I raise my children according to His plan, they will not depart from the narrow path. Or at least that’s how I interpreted it. Thus imagine my shock as the adolescent haze settled on my previously pious children, so that they dragged themselves to Mass as though they would rather not go. Imagine how heart-broken I was when the parents announced, “prayer time!” and faces disappeared from view. Imagine trying to swallow a decent mouthful while listening to a teenager opine (wrongly) on Church history or the latest deviant trends. Weren’t we supposed to be immune from such rebelliousness? Hadn’t I done my part? Did God trick me?

There is a twofold difficulty in asking for our daily bread, which both spring from pride. One challenge is remembering that we never arrive at self-sufficiency and that we will always have to humble ourselves before the throne of God. Having a broad and thorough grasp of the faith doesn’t mean that one can sail through the days knowing where to find God’s will. Theology is different from faith, and knowing General Scheme of how God works in creation doesn’t mean that He’s revealed His personal hand about your life. For that, we will remain face down in prayer, day by day, begging for the grace to live faithfully through it all.

The second difficulty is accepting the trials that God allows – with an audience. Not only do we walk the tightrope of faith in a fallen world, but there are plenty of interested bystanders who want to see how that faith holds up. It may not be their faith, it may not be credible in any way to them, but it makes our spectacle of living life all the more challenging to those who get to see it in action – often up close and personal.

While we have to be aware of the importance of avoiding scandal, we also have to remember to simply focus on God and pray with sincerity. Fumbling blindly, taking occasional missteps, losing our calm, and misunderstanding the cues are all part of the process. Like Peter trying to walk on water, we know that if we become distracted by how our story is playing to the gallery, we’ll sink.

Thus, day after day, we must humbly ask for grace and wisdom, and we proceed step by step to each outcome, which may be shrouded by doubt and confusion. No matter, we just pray.

Getting it Right

According to our state in life, our personality, and our inclinations, we choose our game plan. For some, it will include daily Mass, for some the Rosary, for some sacrificial offerings for particular intentions. We choose our intercessors, we become attached to various prayers, we nourish ourselves with books and tapes. We have morning rituals, noontime devotions, and evening quiet time. We find retreats, we share insights with friends, and we try to purge our defects. We beg for the grace of perseverance, we cling to the sacraments which help, and we take as many opportunities possible to love our neighbour in ways easy and difficult. Such is the path of a believer; such is the way of one with many intentions before God, from whom she gains her strength.

There are days when an examination of conscience will reveal that we didn’t try all that hard, and there are days when everything fell into place. There are days when choosing to do the right things is well nigh impossible and there are the days when time with God was so sweet that we hardly wanted to let Him go. And sometimes we do what we know is best with a dry heart and an empty feeling that makes us wonder why we bother.

Through it all the children grow, the parents age, and the jobs come and go. School years begin and end, and we look back to see that even snails can cross the garden eventually. We look back and see where we were five years ago, even fifteen, and see that God is indeed bringing us along – inviting us to trust the plan He has for our lives and growing in our ability to trust when we cannot see our way.

In looking back, there can be a sweetness that hangs over events like a mist, so that time can remove the edge and reveal the subtleties we never knew existed. As long as forgiveness has been a habit – for us and for our loved ones – we bear with one another as we step towards eternity after years of struggle. But that is the past. What does such a past offer for today’s difficulties.

No Skating Allowed

The past as a whole should reinforce what we encounter each evening. Whether we did our best or our worst, whether God’s will prevailed or not, and whether humility or pride held out – each day must find us engaged in the spiritual battle. No one gets a pass – unless circumstances sideline us to the degree that we must float on the prayers and sacrifices of others. In that case, we suffer sweetly – but short of that, we pray.

I have mistaken a few days or weeks of “successful piety” as an invitation to skate. Having been faithful to prayer, devotions, a few tokens of generosity, and lofty thoughts, I then took short vacations, assuming that there was enough “goodness” to carry me through “deserved” hiatus. The hiatus usually end when I hit the wall. In a twist on “today has enough troubles of its own,” I found that “daily bread” is just that – daily bread. Yesterday’s toast is brittle and one day’s most delicious biscuits are the next day fallen and stale. Just as we cannot agonize over tomorrow’s impending doom when times get rough, we cannot coast on yesterday’s good deeds in the spiritual battle. Entropy is the nature of our fallen world and it is an enemy to contend with hour after hour in our families as well as in our prayer lives.

And thus we return to the calm of each evening when the children finally return and the last light is out. We breathe a sigh of gratitude for their safety – appreciating that God was faithful and that nothing invaded our souls that God could not conquer with His help.

Some day the children may not return – either to our homes or to the Church we taught them to love – and for that we will cast up daily petitions. They will wander and question and reject the hearth warmed with love just for them. But that doesn’t mean the hearth can ever grow cold. While they can skate in treacherous places, we cannot. We are charged with keeping the lamp of faith lit with the oil of perseverance – and trust that our childlike requests will one day allow us all to assemble in the Eternal embrace. Until then, each and every day must include our feeble efforts, our humble requests, and our cheerful love – for the bread of life is sweet and God’s promises worthy of our faith.