A Mary Moment Monday post
We have fields of corn surrounding our house this year, growing into a threefold fence of waving green. There’s a smell to corn as it grows and almost a taste to the green.
Aside from the right-before-it’s-ready-to-be-harvested gold that’s sweeping through the wheat fields right now, the green of corn fields is one of my favorite parts of summer. There’s something comforting about it, something that speaks home and peace and smiles to me.
I remember, growing up, how my dad would always comment on the corn, especially when we drove south.
“Their corn’s a lot taller down here,” he would comment.
Or, “It’s tasseling already! Look at that!”
I cared, but I didn’t really understand the why and how until after I took the grain class in college and then had my husband’s down-to-earth explanations ten years later. At the time, it was conversation with my dad, and I took it. I think I still hear echoes of it when I glance out of my van window and note the progress the corn’s making in the fields.
It’s been a busy first month of summer. We had Confirmation Boot Camp, and that’s always an intense three weeks (the week before, the week of, and the recovery week after). I haven’t gotten into my groove yet, and I am trying to let go of my need for a groove, really.
And there’s only one place to turn.
Ever since my iPad went all “not working,” I’ve been realllllllly struggling with my prayer life. I mean, it wasn’t a walk in the park before (or maybe a walk through a park filled with deer flies and mosquitoes), but this has been the sort of challenge that my wavering discipline didn’t need.
Or maybe it did.
A few months ago, after reading The Everyday Catholic’s Guide to the Liturgy of the Hours, by the inestimable Daria Sockey, I started praying two hours with some regularity. But it changed my rhythm and there were mornings I didn’t get my rosary in.
“No big deal,” thought I. “I’m praying the Official Prayer Of The Church. No rosary necessary.”
I was loving praying the Psalms in the morning and (most of the time) before bed. I enjoyed the structure and, well, it was nice. I had thought I was past the “honeymoon” phase and really getting into a habit when Destructoboy and the Kool-Aid conspired against my iPad.
It’s not that there’s not room for the Liturgy of the Hours in my day. (Though praying them with my computer is a no-go. Just. Can’t. Focus.) It’s that the first thing I need to do—have to do—is pray a rosary.
I seem to have to relearn this lesson every couple of years.
Summer’s a good time to step back and take a look at things. While my schedule is “off” (and will be until the week before school starts, if last year is any indication), I’m also more open to trying new things. Maybe it’s desperation. Maybe it’s the state I have to be in to be truly open-minded.
This summer, I’m turning to Mary in a big way, but not so much for the big stuff. I’m drowning, this summer, in small stuff, details and responsibilities and projects that, taken alone, aren’t a cause for concern. Together, though, they make a whopping pile of screaming.
My rosary isn’t optional. I can stomp and whine and procrastinate, but it’s the only way I’m not going to lose my mind completely.
That, and an injection of coffee and chocolate.