“Careful What You Pray for” by Debra Hadraba for BraveHeart Women- Honor Your Truth #105

by Debra Hadraba on April 5, 2010 · 0 Comments
in The "Is it True?" Series

Welcome to Honor Your Truth, The “Is it True? Series” Episode One Hundred Five ” Careful What You Pray For”

Every day we said Grace before dinner. We never said a thing preceding breakfast, it was all we could do to get up, get in our uniforms and get to the bus stop. But, prior to Mom’s Pot Roast, there was always prayer. No one said anything special. We said the same prayer every day. We said it quiet, quick and underneath our breath. Never taking the time out for reflection on what we were grateful for or a moment of silence for those who may be suffering. No, saying grace was just something we did like washing our hands or setting the table. It was not a very conscious process.

Even though I probably said that prayer a half-a-zillion times, I never really learned the words. Turns out, no one else really knew them either. So basically, we mumbled. I don’t remember being taught Grace, but I had the basic framework… and then just kept my head down. I thought the first line went as follows, “Bless Us Oh Lord, for these… I guess (thy gifts).” From my perspective, it was a request to bless this food because, like it or not, I guess we’re eating it, even if it is peas.

I hated peas, but we had to eat them. I never learned to like them as was promised. I’m all grown up and I still can’t stand them. My brother didn’t like them either.

He turned to me and said, “I don’t like peas,” and threw up on the table.

This image has assisted me in my continued disdain for the little green round balls of mush. I don’t like Lima beans either. But above all, I don’t like okra. It is slimy and it’s very gross. My grandpa made me eat it when I was 21. I thought certainly by then that I was old enough to decide what to eat and what not to, but no.

The rest of the prayer I had fairly down, except for “thy bounty.” I said “my bounty” partially because I had no idea what a “bounty” was. If I had known, I might have figured out it wasn’t mine. I learned many, many prayers either through repetition, memorization or just osmosis. I never really learned their meaning in a way I could connect to. They meant nothing much to me. I just knew I had to keep from getting into trouble. If I didn’t know the words, I better move my mouth.

There wasn’t much in the way of explanation. The standard mode of operation was, “Do as I say, not as I do.” While I might not have grasped the philosophical depth of a rote prayer, I doubt that I would have cared much anyway at the time. However, I don’t really know. I can’t remember.

Now, I look for possible explanations for my challenges in hopes of better understanding them. Nonetheless, all the reasons in the world are nothing more that… reasons – only possible ones at that. Negative thinking for example, stems from clear and from tangled roots. While it may be helpful to pinpoint some of them, the greatest power lies in the present, not in the past.

What do I do with the truth today? I don’t know why we tell our children the Easter Bunny will come with colored eggs and chocolate. I don’t know why we tell them Santa will come down the chimney with a bulging sack of toys. I don’t remember being told it wasn’t true. It is amazing that I would ever believe anything anyone said again after finding out so much of these things were myth. I know I felt ashamed having told my sisters that I saw Santa’s boot. I said I saw it as he was going up the chimney, obviously a lie.

The secret was so fun and we were lucky to be born into a family that could celebrate the holidays the way that other people did. I realize it is an opportunity to teach gratitude, yet still so hard I’m sure. I could have learned some gratitude at grace time, but I didn’t. While this may be interesting, it serves no purpose to blame anything or anyone. It has no power over NOW. Right NOW I can feel grateful for my family and that I am here with them for Easter, all other details aside, I Honor My Truth!

Debra Hadraba

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