Who taught you to pray as a child?
When I was a little girl, my grandmother taught me how to pray. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name….”
My favorite prayers were: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…” and “Guardian Angel, Guardian Dear, to whom God’s love commits me here. Ever this day, be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide.” The first was one of my favorites because it spoke of the soul and of death, which intrigued me. I adored the second because it spoke of unconditional safety, which comforted me. I can picture her sitting beside me right now, as if I am still that little girl, and she is teaching me for the first time.
A few years later my Mother would create an award winning painting of my brother and I, praying, bedside, in our pajamas, with a window above the bed showing the night sky. My Grandmother displayed this painting in her home until she died. My father gave it to me years later. The best and only gift he thoughtfully gave me.
To me, my grandmother was a saint. She taught me about love and wanted me to know God. I am not sure if I ever knew him, or ever will know him, but I knew her and she knew me. That, to me, was God.
When my Grandmother fell ill my Christmas revolved around seeing and being with her. Since she passed, it has never felt the same. There are many things that have never felt the same since she and my Stepfather, Jim, passed away.
This Christmas I felt my Grandmother and my Stepfather's presence very strongly; they were talking to me, comforting me, laughing with me. Coincidentally, my Mother gave me Jim’s quill pen desk set that was monogrammed with “Captain Jim Hyde.” Unlike my Father, my mother has given me many, many gifts over the years, but this one was particularly special. Maybe Jim was talking to her too…
