When Women Pray E-Book

Lyn Holley Doucet

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 246

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2004

Beschreibung

This is a spiritual companion for Christian women who want to deepen their prayer lives and experience the life-changing presence of God. Lyn Holley Doucet and Robin Hebert encourage women to explore their own ways of living spiritual lives with words that are experiential, warm, personal and eminently practical.

Leseprobe

A Word about the Cover Art...

We stumbled upon Jan Vermeer’s Christ in the House of Mary and Martha at a busy book convention with our publisher, Roy Carlisle, after searching all day for cover images in mild frustration. The three of us liked it immediately, moved by its contrast with how we were feeling on that day amid the overwhelming visual stimuli, noise, and the brush of people everywhere.

It dawned on us that Mary and Martha, like us, were indeed two very different women with unique approaches to prayer. Soon, the rich imagery of these two gospel women began to work its way into our hearts and psyches as symbols of what happens when women pray. To us they look satisfied yet hungry, attentive yet distracted, receptive yet giving, exhibiting that rich mix of emotion and intellect that makes women so special and so diverse. In this particular painting, Mary, seated humbly at the feet of Jesus, symbolizes prayerfulness. Martha, always known as the busy one, is serving, but she is also listening. Her role of service is vital as well. In fact, she’s bringing bread, symbolic of the Eucharist, to the table. In this chosen setting, she is moving toward what is essential in life, a “Mary” attitude of loving contemplation and surrender, drawing closely to the One who can accomplish that work in her soul.

As we prayed with the images, Mary and Martha became all the gospel women who were treated with dignity and respect as they walked with Jesus. They became the women who traveled daily with him, broke bread with him, learned from him — and yes, taught him about themselves and their lives. They became those of us today who also welcome Jesus with all our hearts as we long for healing, connection, and meaningfulness, seeking to find “the better part” as our busy lives continually flourish and change.

For in truth, there is Mary and Martha within each of us. We seek the place where Mary and Martha — contemplation and a heart for service — meet within us, a God-point of grace and transformation. For as we embrace all the parts of ourselves in love and step out in faith, we become fully — women who pray.

When Women Pray

As Jesus and his disciples

went on their way,

he came to a village

where a woman named Martha

welcomed him in her home.

She had a sister named Mary, who sat down at the feet of the Lord

and listened to his teaching. (GNT)

When Women Pray

Our Personal Stories of Extraordinary Grace

LYN HOLLEY DOUCETAND ROBIN HEBERT

A Crossroad Book

The Crossroad Publishing Company

New York

The Crossroad Publishing Company

www.crossroadpublishing.com

Copyright © 2004 by Lyn Holley Doucet and Robin Hebert

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of The Crossroad Publishing Company.

Scripture quotations labeled NRSV are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1993 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations labeled NAB are from the New American Bible, copyright © 1991, 1986, 1970 by the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, 3211 Fourth Street, N.E., Washington, D.C. 20017-1194. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations labeled GNT are from the Good News Translation in Today’s English Version, Second Edition, © 1992 by American Bible Society. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The text fonts are Sabon, Goudy Sans, and Benguiat.

The display font is Liberty.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Doucet, Lyn Holley, 1950-

When women pray : our personal stories of extraordinary grace / Lyn Holley Doucet and Robin Hebert.

   p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references (p. ).

ISBN 978-0-8245-2279-7 (alk. paper)

1. Catholic women - Religious life. 2. Spiritual life - Catholic Church. 3. Prayer-Catholic Church. 4. Doucet, Lyn Holley, 1950- 5. Hebert, Robin. I. Hebert, Robin. II. Title.

BX2353.D68 2004

248.3'2'082-dc22

2004021257

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10       10 09 08 07 06 05 04

From Robin ... To my daughters, Megan and Emily, and to all those daughters to whom I long to pass on my love of God.

And to my sister Theresians, who have taught me the most about prayer.

From Lyn... For those who walk with me in faith: my directees, spiritual brothers and sisters, and all whose souls touch mine.

Contents

We Invite You to a Life of Prayer

Lord, Teach Me to Pray

Making Time for Prayer

God, Why Do I Worry So Much?

Centering Prayer

God, Use Me

A Special Community of Women

I Am Filled with Your Light

Sitting Here with You

God, I Did It Again!

Praying with Scripture and Imagination

You, Alone, Are Enough

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

I Was a Child, So Close to You

A Prayerful Life Review

You Fulfill My Deepest Desire

What Is a Spiritual Director?

Your Beautiful World Fills Me

A Poem Prayer, Veriditas

Within You Is My True Home

Lectio Divina

I Trust You Down a Twisting Path

God, I Need You More Than Ever

Journaling as a Spiritual Practice

God, Please Forgive Me

Prayer for Forgiveness

Opening the Mind to God’s Peaceful, Healing Presence

Help Me to Rest in You

Change and Heal Me, God

Desolation in Prayer

Thank You, Father, with All My Heart

Why Go on Retreat?

Burning with Your Love

Hear My Mother-Heart

I Am So Deeply Grateful

Consolation in Prayer

A Simple Ignatian Examen

Where Are You, God?

You Have Done Great Things for Me

You Redeemed My Life

Your Love Has Changed Me

Called Forth by Your Love

When Women Pray

Epilogue

Suggested Favorite Readings

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

About the Authors

We Invite You to a Life of Prayer

All we have to give away is our own journey, our own story. Then we become living witnesses. The only authority we have in other people’s lives is what we ourselves have walked and what we know to be true. Then we have earned the right to speak.

— Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs

LHD It is early morning, as I sip my coffee and ponder the introduction to our emerging book. All around me are books: on shelves, in baskets, in teetering stacks on the floor. Most of them speak of the spiritual journey, which has been for me a path to more wholeness and freedom in my life.

This morning I am intensely aware of the community of readers and writers to which I belong, separated by time and distance, yet one in our hearts. My journey has been shaped by the generous sharing of writers: Fr. William Barry, C. S. Lewis, Sr. Joyce Rupp, Paula D'Arcy, Melody Beatty, Sue Monk Kidd, Fr. Richard Rohr, and Sr. Macrina Wiederkehr. The list goes on. Reading their pages has helped me to feel less alone, less strange. I have felt embraced by their questing hearts, so much like my own. These were my mentors, the voyagers who longed to be closer to God, to peer into mystery, and to examine their life experiences in the illuminative grace of faith.

I remember clearly the day I read some simple words from Fr. William Barry. I don't remember the exact phrases, but the meaning was, "Life is a spiritual journey. There is a path that has been prepared for you." My heart lifted with hope. Could it be that there is a path for me? That God loves me enough to be guiding my steps? The more I offered myself to this path, the more I was sure it existed and the more that I knew that a passionate God was intimately involved in my daily life.

In love, these writers gave their best; and in love Robin and I long to do the same for others. Though millions of words have been written about the journey of prayer and faith, I believe that Robin and I bring something authentic to this quest: our own unique and lived experiences as married women, living in families with children, connected to our local communities and professions. Robin's road and mine have been much the same and much different.

We both have an educator's background and share the vocation of spiritual direction. Robin offers her ministry on a busy college campus; I lead directees in the quiet setting of my country home. I work in music ministry in my own parish, and Robin does just about everything in hers! Our adult lives have been lived out in marriage and family. My marriage began in 1971, the fruit of a blind date, but Robin is the survivor of a painful divorce, although she is now in a four-year loving and life-giving marriage. My trial came with my infertility, and I am the grateful mother of one much-loved son, conceived after medical intervention. However, my longing for additional children was not fulfilled. Robin raised four children, ages seven to thirteen at the time of her separation, and experienced the heartrending challenges and trials of single motherhood. Today, the blessings of close-knit children, a loving husband, stepchildren, and grandchildren are a source of growth and many miracles in her life.

Both the painful times and the fruitful times have put us on the road to writing this book. We see in each other differences that we cherish and oneness of purpose that unites us. Thomas Merton tells us, "Home roots us in eternity. It is the symbol of our final integration; we achieve perfect wholeness in God. This is the deepest meaning of going home." As we daily come home to God's mercy and love, we long to gently guide others along paths home.

We are two women of ordinary circumstances who have had, through God's grace, extraordinary experiences in prayer. We have been tossed through stormy days and sailed into harbors of peace and joy. We have tasted despair and experienced amazing transcendence. We have encountered all the every-days, when nothing much seems to be happening within, when weariness and boredom reign. And yet we have a sweet fire that burns within us, even when banked low. We have been changed by Love. We offer our experiences, not as a template for others, but as a gentle path of encouragement.

—L.H.D.

RHGifted by the light and wisdom of those who have gone before us and graced by the direction of wise guides along the way, Lyn and I have encountered a God who not only loves us unconditionally but also a God who is graciously involved in our daily lives. As spiritual directors, we are privileged to walk with others as they discover deeply who God is for them.

There is never a story shared by another that doesn't transform my own life in some sort of way, that doesn't reach down into the belly of my own soul and provide some healing, word of encouragement, or slice of joy. As author Joyce Rupp says, “We can discover our home when we discover another's story of seeking.” That's what stories do. They bring us home.

My tattered copy of Macrina Wiederkehr's A Tree Full of Angels speaks of my own homecoming many years ago. The book was a gift, perhaps one of the greatest I ever received. I was struggling with an emptiness triggered by the release of years of grief surrounding a painful betrayal. Macrina's words filled my longing soul with an inconceivable hope: “My yearning for God has been so deep lately. It's been an ache that I cannot reach. Today the God I couldn't reach reached me — reached into my inner soul and showed me my speck of eternal life.”

God reached me. God reached me in spite of my struggle with unworthiness and my battle with feeling unwelcomed. On a sunny spring morning, Macrina's touching words, lifted right out of her own journey, provided a Knowing that I was home with God. Finally.

Writer Henri Nouwen says that the heart of the spiritual battle is to know that we are welcomed. We are welcomed to know the heart of our Creator and to be at home there. Darker spirits within will try to convince us that we don't have a place there, that we are not worthy of this much love, that we can't be fully received by God.

In our essays we hope to convey another message: Don't be afraid. This life of faith that we have experienced is offered to everyone! Come and be filled! Come and be made whole! Come and be at home!

We freely share with you our own experiences with God as they have unfolded day by day. We stand as witnesses to our own stories of healing and conversion, offering you an invitation to journey with us to an unseen world of wonderful and amazing experiences in prayer. Just as God continues to yearn for us, he yearns for you.

With open hearts, we offer you a life of prayer.

—R.H.

Lord, Teach Me to Pray

We need not worry about “spiritual growth.” We need only build rhythms into our lives that enable us to live in tune with the Spirit; the Spirit then does the rest, drawing us closer to the Lord both in prayer and in service.

—Richard J. Hauser, S.J., In His Spirit

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.

—Mark 1:35 NRSV

RH I will never forget my initial meeting with my first “official” spiritual director, Fr. Hampton Davis. Excited and a bit nervous about the appointment, I strutted into his office with props in my hands: time-management book, journal, favorite spiritual book, and purse, all stacked like the tower of Babylon. I greeted Fr. Hampton with the unspoken message “Now teach me!” as if prayer were a subject about which I could just ingest information and then repeat on a test. He politely removed my armor, placing the burdensome stack on the floor, and then sat me down to pray. I felt stripped and naked, as he reached for my hands and spoke an opening prayer. His comforting words awakened my hurried spirit to that priceless moment, offering a sense of safety I hadn't felt in years. My tight-fisted heart relaxed in his loving care as Father tenderly dried my tears, asking what about the prayer had touched me. The word “reverence” had wrapped around my soul.

“What does ‘reverence' mean to you, Robin?”

“Respect... respect for God, I guess.”

“Robin, but you don't have a clue about how to respect yourself!” he lovingly suggested. “You're too busy being the good little mother, counselor, and volunteer that you have forgotten how to take care of yourself—really take care of yourself.”

He explained to me that self-reverence is a clear commandment of God and that it arises from the inside out. There is nothing I can do to earn reverence. Fr. Hampton helped me to see that the greatest way I could feel reverence for myself was to become a receiver of God's love. He spoke of the saints as those who had learned to let God love them and suggested that we are all called to be saints. He proposed that I wouldn't find sainthood in my doing for God but in deepening my prayer life. I left his office with a promise to begin.

I decided that each morning would be designated time for God, a sort of Sabbath for an hour or so. I would snuggle in my cream-colored linen chair with the aqua piping that sat in my bedroom. It was not only soft and comfortable, but also contained in its fabric the essence of its previous owner, my mother. She had sat in it to embroider beautiful smocked garments that she skillfully created. I sat in it to embroider my soul. My prayer chair, as I came to call it, offered a perfect view of the tall maple tree outside my second-story window. That late autumn, the tree seemed to be shedding for me the layers of pain I felt, my sense of deep unworthiness, my resistance to silence and solitude. Some mornings, as I practiced centering prayer, tears flowed like a cleansing rain. Other mornings, I struggled simply to stay awake. As the weeks passed, however, I became aware of a deep longing in me for God. What a delight to discover God's yearning for me!

Every session with Fr. Hampton involved engaging in the question of how my daily prayer was coming along. Sometimes I had to admit that I had prayed only twice during the week, but he would faithfully remind me: “Robin, it's difficult to hear God's voice driving down Johnston Street!” a main thoroughfare in Lafayette. He delightfully suggested that if my time for God is 8:00 a.m., then God is there at 7:00, excitedly declaring, “Yes! She's coming!” How could I want anything less than to meet him there?

Months later, as Lent approached, I was still struggling with the daily discipline of prayer, so it occurred to me that instead of giving up a substance as a Lenten observance, I could fast from the belief that I didn't have enough time each day for prayer. It worked. I was simply amazed by the many fruits of prayer: the incredible “God instances,” the meaningful coincidences where I could not deny God's faithful reassurance that I am never really alone, the healing words I was rediscovering in Scripture, the surprise encounter with God's very presence deep within my being. Those six weeks became ten years — indeed, some of the most fulfilling of my life. That Lent was the beginning, the advent of a whole new era in my life in which an entirely fresh and life-giving relationship with myself and with God was born.

The journey, of course, continues, as a path of yearning and gratification, intimacy and withdrawal, filled with some of the most tender moments of my life as well as some of the most excruciatingly painful. Very often there is nothing that occurs in my time set apart for prayer. I'm just aware of a deep sense of peace that pervades my spirit throughout the day. There are also days when I draw on the graces of strength to suffer through a tough situation or prudence to say or do the right thing. I am often graced with patience to bear a certain trial, or sheer joy from the thankful recognition of great blessings. This I know to be true: daily immersion in God's love has awakened me to the multitude of moments where God is present, moments I might have missed, had I not taken the time to till my inner soil and still my restless spirit. Undergirding my prayer journey is a freedom that I never before imagined possible.

—R.H.

Making Time for Prayer

Each Christian needs half an hour of prayer each day, except when we are busy....Then we need an hour.

— St. Frances de Sales, as quoted in Armchair Mystic

I smile every time I read the quote above because in fact we are all so busy. But I have found that only the regular practice of prayer can develop a lasting habit. A daily rhythm of twenty to forty-five minutes or so is perhaps an appropriate amount of time. It often seems as though the time isn’t there, but perhaps it’s more a matter of desire, discipline, commitment, even self-permission to sit and waste time with God. If prayer is an expression of our relationship with God, finding the time to cultivate and dwell in that relationship is essential—especially if we’re busy!

Fr. Mark Thibodeaux makes a very helpful distinction in his book Armchair Mystic. He distinguishes between a prayerful person, one that tunes into the sacred throughout the day, and a person of prayer as one who claims daily time set aside for God. A person of prayer plans the day around designated prayer time instead of the other way around. Fr. Mark points out that sensing God’s presence throughout the day is indeed important, but it’s not enough. We become a prayerful person only by first becoming a person of prayer.

Most struggle with finding or, as I would like to say, claiming time each day for prayer. I recall an idea shared by Anne Ortlund in her book Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman that stayed with me for many years. As I remember, she spoke of her struggle with finding the time for prayer in her busy day, so she agreed to set her alarm in the middle of the night in order to have quality prayer time. In exchange for her commitment to God, she requested that God give her the energy for her daily family life. Her life was never the same. Mine wasn’t either after reading her book. I never had an excuse again and often thought about Anne’s fidelity during my own periodic bouts of insomnia. Considering it could be God’s alarm going off, I would get up to pray instead of wallowing in sleeplessness.

The following are some suggestions Lyn and I have found helpful:

• Remember that prayer is a grace, a gift that we need to ask for. “Lord, teach me to pray” can be a great way to begin a prayer period.

• Pray for the grace of desire to commit yourself to a daily prayer routine. If you already have a routine, you might consider praying to see if you need to change it or extend your time.

• Choose a time of day when you are alert, but also when you find it easy to quiet yourself. For me, morning is the best, as it sets my day in a grace-filled manner.

• Eliminate distractions, phone, interruptions, etc.

• Choose a comfortable position and a warm, comforting setting. Candles, icons, photos, or spiritual pictures can be helpful aids. Have your Bible and journal near and handy, and perhaps even a meditation book as a source of inspiration.

• Start with short periods of time, perhaps five to ten minutes, and build up gradually.

• Choose one day a week when you are less scheduled and can devote more quality time to prayer. This will give your spirit more room to unwind and more time to surrender to the graces discovered in prayer.

We have provided in this book information about various forms of prayer, and we hope that this will further assist you in creating your own prayer rhythms.

God, Why Do I Worry So Much?

And Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water.”

—Matthew 14:28 NRSV

Sometimes little gusts of wind are more unbearable for the reed than great storms.

—St. Thérèse of Lisieux

LHDIt's been a tough week in subtle ways, I thought, sitting at my large, cypress dining table sorting through mail. While playing the keyboard for a funeral, I did well until the Lamb of God and the Communion Song, both of which I butchered. I looked in vain for the trapdoor that my friend Bette Legendre says all musicians need to remove themselves quickly from the scene. The next day, in a meeting with two lovely women to plan an event, I felt tension and the negative effects of unspoken frustrations that I felt I may have caused. I immediately began to criticize myself internally and I wished I had done things differently. Later in the week, I was chatting with my husband, Dee, about some of his health issues, none of which are serious at this time. Subsequently and unnecessarily, I descended into worry and fear as I thought, "What would I ever do without him?" The rubbing and jousting of everyday events seems to keep me stirred up.

In Matthew 14, we see the disciples trying to follow Jesus and do his work. After the miracle of the loaves and the fishes they are sent alone across the sea in their little boat. Their mountaintop experience is followed by separation and fear. The wind and waves begin to toss them, just as our lives toss us about, in large and small ways. Then, in the fourth watch of the night, they see Jesus coming to them over the waves! Peter, ever ready and impulsive, wants to be able to walk on the water too, but most of all, I think, he wants to end the separation between himself and his Beloved. He does well as long as he keeps his eyes on Jesus, but then fear overtakes him and he begins to sink.

Like the apostles in the boat I often feel separated from my Lord, from the big picture of what my life is to be, even after success and affirmation, especially after embarrassment and criticism. I become lost in irritations of my peace, fears that leave my soul feeling achy and raw.

Lost in thought this day, I opened my door and slowly walked into the front pasture, peering over the fence, into the trees, looking for my Beloved. Dappled sunlight and shade played in the narrow wooded area, and birds flitted easily among the bushes and trees and landed on the golden leaf carpet below. I pondered the state of my heart. It frightened me that so many things could upset my peace of mind. I considered the sensitivity and dependency that left me feeling so vulnerable, the need to please and to be special, to be good at everything. I knew that I was much more aware and more capable of coping with my inner life now than I used to be, but on this day it was not enough. I wanted to be free and mindless like the cardinals and sparrows that wafted through the trees.

Quickly another thought occurred: Was I really looking for God, or just for an easy way out of pain? Pain comes in many ways, large and small, and perhaps I wanted to walk on the water, to float over life with nary a rough spot or storm. Such a desire was not admirable, for in wanting this I turned away from the truth, truth that I think does lie in identifying my unnecessary suffering, my self-torture, the storms of my own creating.

I walked further, rounding the tree line, watching as a gray-brown rabbit darted away into hiding, showing me the flash of his snowy tail. I breathed, slowly, deeply. I cleared my mind and filled it with the blue sky. My heart reached to touch the unknown mystery, the hidden face. Peace trickled in and began to settle my stormy soul. I had been doing this form of quieting for quite a while now, and I did see some improvement in my character. I didn't run from my problems so quickly, I didn't rationalize my bad behavior away as much. I saw my part in creating problems more clearly, and yet I didn't seem to heap as much harsh retribution upon my own head. On the whole, my spirit had become more balanced and secure.

My friend Avis told me recently, "The prayer of quiet remolds our personalities. God's light shines in our dark corners and reveals us to ourselves. God's light heals." This prayer of quiet is to be willing to point ourselves in God's direction, to open ourselves to light rather than to achieve perfection on our own by a heroic effort. Little by little such a prayer charts a new course for our souls.

Then an unwelcome thought came to me, breaking into my fragile peace: "I will never arrive." I saw the subconscious fantasy that on some future day I would have struggled all I needed to, opened my heart all the way, done all that was necessary for growth, that I would sit easy In the armchair of knowing. I would achieve the enlightenment for which the Buddhists search, the attainment of the highest good on the spiritual path. This part of my road was veiled in deep mystery. It was enough; it should be enough for now, to be in the presence of God's light. I should not wish for the cessation of all present and future pain even if I admitted in a smaller part of myself I really did. Though pain teaches well, I could hope to learn in gentler ways, and as I walked I ardently wished for gentler ways.

As always, the weather was changing. A dark, misty, dragonshaped cloud wove around the sun until the sun itself became smaller, a translucent dime in the sky. I considered how the disciples might have felt they had "arrived" when Jesus worked his mighty miracle and fed the hungry hoards. However, in no time at all, they were back in the sea, tossed around by nature and fear. Pain had arrived to teach its lesson: trust, and keep your eyes on Jesus. Let it be God's light that shines on in your hearts.