Dear Lyla,
Putting you to bed is one of the most special times of the day. I love our snuggle ritual, your pleas to stay up just a bit longer and your most vocal opinion on how nighttime prayers are to be said. Two weeks ago you admonished me for reciting my part of the prayer in the incorrect order; praying for Mary Beth’s foot to heal comes after our prayer for Laura’s head injury since she got hurt first and could I please try to remember that next time? A few nights ago you instructed me to do an informal poll on all of those included in our prayers to make sure it was actually working, so far the reports have been positive. I suppose I should not be surprised by the lack of solemnity in your prayer habits, you are a straight shooter and have been from the beginning. Perhaps you get your predilection for infusing the secular with the spiritual from Daddy; unlike him, I hope that as you get older the privilege of praying aloud at gatherings will not be revoked. As you know we do not call upon Daddy to give grace any longer in our household; there is good reason for that, a reason I suspect that was concocted by your Daddy to avoid the task entirely. Years before you were born we began the tradition of traveling to Springfield, MO very close to Christmas to spend time with your grandparents, uncles and cousins. One year, before your Uncle Tommy and Aunt Ashley were married, they were to sing in the Christmas Cantata. Uncle Tommy had never sung in a church choir before and we went to the service in order to lend him moral support. Your Uncle Aaron, along with cousins Miranda and Maddie, went with us. I made the mistake of sitting the two girls next to me while Daddy and Aaron sat in the pew behind us muffling giggles, sharing jokes and making snarky comments (neither of them do well unsupervised in a church). At the end of the concert the pastor stood up, thanked us for coming and told us to take Jesus with us as we left; an appropriate and fairly common way to end a service. We found Ashley and Tommy, told them how proud we were of their contribution to the concert and piled into the van to head out to Grandma Atkinson’s farm for lunch; a twenty minute ride on the most curvy roads imaginable. About half way through the trip Daddy slammed on his breaks and shouted “Damn!” My heart started to race and I felt a panic creep over me in response to Daddy’s sudden stop and loud exclamation. When I asked him to tell me what was wrong he simply replied, “We forgot Jesus back at the church.” Your Uncle Aaron hooted and howled and before long we had to pull over to the side of the road because he and Daddy had tears running down their cheeks and were doubled over in fits of uncontrollable laughter. A few weeks later Christmas Day came to our house back in Iowa. Uncle Spuds, Grandma Jo and Dr. Earl were guests at our table. I had not known Dr. Earl all that long but I knew that he was devout in his beliefs and suspected that his approach to prayer was a solemn one. So on that Christmas I asked your Daddy to say grace; perhaps not the best request of someone who is an admitted introvert with a quick wit and a propensity to push boundaries on even the most stoic of occasions. Grace started out beautifully and in my head I was silently praising Daddy who had seemingly risen to the task. We were almost to “Amen” when Daddy suddenly said “…and God please forgive us for leaving your son at the church in Springfield.” We had regaled the others earlier in the day with Daddy’s antics in Springfield and he couldn’t wait to deliver the ultimate punch line. I was mortified and worried that Dr. Earl would be offended. Uncle Spuds, never to miss an opportunity to encourage Daddy but not wanting to irritate me, choked back on his laughter and tried to compose himself. Daddy was looking up at me from under his bowed head trying to determine just how mad I was with him. Grandma Jo raised an eyebrow, not quite knowing how to react. Dr. Earl, bless his heart, laughed out loud, long and heartily. At that moment I knew I had been beaten, Daddy would be given a lifelong reprieve on the task of saying grace at the dinner table. What you must take away from this story Little One, is that everyone must be able to practice faith in their own way. We say prayers at night together because I want to teach you that it is good to think of others and send positive energy their way. When you grow up your belief system may alter or you may encounter others who have different views about life and spirituality, and that is ok; everyone must take his or her own journey. In the end it doesn’t matter if you call them prayers, good wishes or positive thoughts when you think about the loved ones in your life; the point is that you take the time to consider them in the first place.
Letters To Lyla 