The Little Lamb's Prayer: Ten Years Later

In the Sonoran Desert, we have a short drive to our little Mission church. We've lived here for fifteen years, and yet we never tire of the beautiful surroundings in our rural neighborhood.  Desert cacti that change with each season from brown to palo verde green to blooming.  It's not unusual that we would stop on the way to church to watch a hawk or a family of quails with babies trailing behind.  We listen to worship music on the way and I love the idea that all of heaven and nature are rejoicing as we prepare to celebrate Mass and worship our Lord.

Last Sunday however, Allie wasn't feeling well and opted to participate in a live-streamed Mass and receive spiritual communion.  Don and I went as usual to our in-person service at the Mission.

 Today though, we experience two different homilies. Father Bing shared that in our prayer life half of the time spent should be in silence, enabling us to listen to God. We should absolutely speak with God, but we can't forget to listen.   And then he offered  - sometimes people tell me, "But Father, I am quiet and the Lord does not speak to me."  So he offered this advice,  "If you don't hear God speak to you, say the Jesus prayer."   I wrote it down.

 Later Allie and I were driving to her youth program and conversing in the car.  Out of the blue, Allie shared that she was frustrated because every week as we enter Mass, I tell her to listen for the message that God wants her to hear.  Allie said she knows that when Mass is over I am going to ask, "What was the message God wanted you to hear today?"   She is frustrated because, in her words, "I know you are going to ask me, so I try really hard to listen, but I never get a message."

I keep my Sunday Mass journal in the back pocket of my car, so I tell Allie to reach in the back pocket and get out my journal.  "Funny you should bring this up, Father Bing talked about this in today's homily.  He said if you don't hear God speak to you, then pray the Jesus prayer." 

 "What's the Jesus prayer?", Allie asked. 

 It's there - in my journal." Allie turns to the page and she reads it aloud.

 "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner."

 She sat in silence for a few minutes.  "Nope. Nothing", she says.

 "Pray it again", I suggest.

 And so again she reads the simple words out loud and we both drive in silence for a few minutes. 

 "That is just the voice in my head", Allie replies. "How do I know it's God?"

 "Can you tell my voice on the phone when I call and you can't see caller ID?", I ask.  "Yes", she says.  "It's because we talk all the time. My voice is familiar, I explain. Just keep practicing and you will become familiar with God's voice to you. And yes, in your head is sometimes how you hear God's voice.  You know it's true because it never veers from the teachings of scripture."

 And then we were distracted by arriving at church for youth group.

 That was last Sunday.

 This Sunday, we drove to church.  An ordinary day. An ordinary drive. As we came back to our seats after receiving the Holy Eucharist, we kneeled and prayed together.  Spontaneously, we added the Jesus Prayer and then kneeled in silence.

 As we sat back down, Allie began to move excitedly in her seat. 

 "I got a message from God!" 

 We didn't have our journals, my car had broken down and was far away in a mechanic's garage.  Our journals remained in the back pocket.  So Allie did what any teenager would do- she opened up her phone and typed out the message.

 "Do not fear me, for I am here to guide you."

Once again, I am overwhelmed with the amazing way our Lord works.  It was ten years ago that I wrote The Little Lamb's Prayer.  Today, you remind me how you are always with us, always answering our prayers. You are always watching out for your little lambs- even when they become rebellious teens questioning their world and His place in their own lives. Even when we don't know how to hear you. You never leave our side.  And truthfully, I am not sure if this was Allie's answered prayer or my own.  Maybe both.