We’ve been talking some about prayer around here lately. My wife and I both grew up going to church–she grew up in a West Coast family where going to Catholic school was important to her mom and going to church on the holidays was what they did, but her friends didn’t go to church. The first time she visited me in the Midwest, she was immediately struck by the fact that there’s a church on every corner. Sometimes, there’s more than one. It’s so much the backdrop of my life that I’d never noticed.

Photo by Gary Bridgman for St. Mary's Episcopal Cathedral - Memphis

I grew up going to church a few times a week. I went to parochial school. I sang in the choir. Holidays had me in church for several hours, singing in choirs, reading Scripture to the congregation. My friends all went to church, even the ones who weren’t in my school. I taught Vacation Bible School. When we visited extended family, we went to their churches, so while I grew up Lutheran, I can say a Hail Mary with the best of them.

We’ve recently committed to regular church, which includes taking our 9- and 4-year-old kids on the weekends they are with us. Our son, the older of the two, announced after Christmas Eve services, “There are two great American myths: Santa Claus and Jesus. I only believe in one of them, and it’s a fat man in a red suit.” He attends with us, though, and is clearly listening, based on the conversations we have throughout the week.

Our 4-year old is into it. I think what hooked her was the opportunity to be a walk-on angel in this year’s Christmas pageant, complete with sparkly halo. She loves the singing and asks regularly whether it’s time to go to Church School yet. To be fair, last night at the table she announced, “I LOVE Church School. What’s Church School?”

On this Saturday, in the midst of Holy Week for Christians, I have prayer on my mind. We’ve been talking about it some as a family–basic conversations of the kind we never had when I was small, because prayer had always been part of our lives. And because we have a preschooler, we talk often each day about making good choices. During the Good Friday Stations of the Cross, we prayed together for God to help us make good choices. The kids were at school, but my wife and I shared a glance and smile over it.

Photo by D. Sharon Pruitt

Last night, I told our smaller one that we’d said a prayer for God to help us make good choices, and she asked what praying was. We explained that it’s a way to ask God for help with things that are challenging for us, to thank God for the good things we have in our lives and the people we love.

She’s had some trouble falling asleep lately and last night was no exception. After tucking her in for the umpteenth time, I sat with her and we played a word game about what we’re going to do outside when it stops raining (if it ever stops). She played, but continued to cry, so I prayed with her. “God, please help me calm down so I can get the good sleep that I need to play and have fun tomorrow. Please help me make good choices. Amen.”

During Holy Week, we remember our liturgical year and Christ’s life. We remind ourselves what it is to live with grateful and generous hearts. At the end, we celebrate the hope we find at Easter, in promises kept.

And next week, we answer innumerable questions about how the Easter Bunny feels about Jesus and about whether, next year, we can pray to God for the Easter Bunny to bring us something specific in those baskets.

This post also appeared at http://betweenthelakes.blogspot.com