Speaking with the Big Guy

I was forty or so when I learned how to pray.

It was about that time that I got an actual answer to a prayer.

Growing up, the nuns would tell us to pray. Say these words. Like an incantation. It’ll give you an indulgence. It’ll scare away the debbil. It’ll spring some soul from purgatory.

But when I was around forty, I went on a silent, Ignatian retreat and learned to pray for real. I’d go back from time to time. I wasn’t really ever looking for answers. I’d take the time to meditate, pray, and rest. In 2005, I went to the retreat to look for answers, and I got one. Since then, I get answers from time to time. They always have a few things in common.

1. Either I get an answer, or what I’ve been praying for simply happens.
2. The answer is 100% clear as day.
3. The answer is 100% an answer. Definitive.
4. It’s never what I expected, not something I’d have come up with by myself.
5. It sometimes is accompanied by and extreme emotion when I get it.

In 2005, I was working at a horrible company and was thoroughly miserable. I was praying for guidance, what to do. All weekend nothing happened. So I figured, at least I got to decompress. At the final mass, it hit me like a brick in the head, loud and clear; “None of that is important. All you need to do now is be a father”. I had a wave of peace and joy I can’t describe. I nearly started laughing. It was so simple.

A little over a month later, I got a call from the company (the original one) I work for now. The job was 50% travel, 50% home. I had whole weeks with my kids. I’ve been here nearly 20 years.

Last year, I was obsessing over the divorce. I re-read some of the emails we sent to each other, and came to the conclusion that her writ of complaints could be mine. The whole thing was bullshit. Then, when praying one night, a baton in the skull. “You committed the sin of pride, and are doing it now. As a husband, it was your duty to see that things were wrong, and to seek help. You failed me”. I collapsed weeping in a pool of sorrow, remorse, and repentance. It wasn’t a happy thing to learn. It took some time to get over.

Generally, when I’ve needed something, it shows up and it takes a minute to realize that what was happening was an answer.

Sometimes, I don’t really have a request. That’s what happened the other night.

I recently got back to the Ignatian thing. You start the morning praying for guidance and strength. At night, you give thanks, reflect on what was good, reflect on the bad, where you could have done better. Then get around to asking for stuff, if there is any. I really didn’t have a big request. More of a lament.

I was praying that wouldn’t it be nice to get to a point where my family, even herself, could get together on holidays without weirdness. It’s tough to get to see the kids. Almost as if we’re all strangers. I prayed for the grace to have faith that if he wanted it, it would happen and until then simply no longer think about it whatsoever.

And then it hit me. Three lines. Words I wouldn’t use that left me surprised and a little confused. I figured I needed to pray a bit more, maybe wait a bit to see what it meant. Turns out, it meant what he meant. It was simple and clear and in one stroke answered two things that were on my mind. I was going to blab it here, it was that amazing. But, no. It can wait. I’ve only told one person, one of those closest to me. As I reflect, I’ve had friends hint this in different ways, just not that clear. It wasn’t advice. It was a fact, and an order.

Fair enough. I can do it.

Learn to pray. Get a book on St. Ignatius’ spiritual exercises. Find some quiet time to practice.

And listen.