I am reading a fascinating book about Eastern monasticism and monastic life on Mount Athos and Cyprus. The author of “The Mountain of Silence,” Kyriacos C. Markides, weaves an engaging account of his travels and spiritual journey, and the wisdom and reflections of his friend, Father Maximos, a Mount Athos monk.

     Today I was attracted to Father Maximos’ comment about confession, a very important sacrament of Greek Orthodox Christianity. “To be an effective confessor, it is important to first prepare yourself through fasting and prayer.”

      I don’t come from a confession or a fasting tradition, but I am intrigued by the connection between praying and fasting. When I think of fasting, food comes to my mind, and truth be told, I never fast. I try to eat healthy and not over eat, but that’s about it; with my high metabolism, I am often hungry, and so I eat. In fact, as I write I am enjoying some cut-up cantaloupe.

   But what about other kinds of fasting, other excessive to give up, other abstentions? Thoughts, for instance, particularly as regard to praying. Abstaining from judgments about the person I’m praying for; giving up what I think the person should do, or what I think God should do for them: letting go of my critique about how they got themselves into the situation that now needs prayer. I could go on and on.

      Giving up, abstaining, fasting from all of that seems much more essential and powerful for prayer than a few pieces of healthy melon.

I haven’t posted in a few days, not for lack of prayer thoughts but for lack of time to gather them in writing. Being in the midst of the busyness of home, and thus away from the solitude of the cottage, provides a different prayer rhythm. Prayer is done more on the run, or to be more specific, in the car. Tonight I have the choice between praying or writing about it. I choose the former so I’m keeping this short.

 It is hard to believe that a prayer diary has been in existence for almost two years. When I started, I wrote, “This blog is my attempt to respond to the question, “What is prayer?”

       Since then, needless to say, my faith has deepened and my purpose and hopes for this blog have broadened, although the prayer question will forever remain central. Today, however, as I look out from my cottage by the sea, I express my intention as follows: to offer prayerful ways for all of us as God’s people to witness to the Truth, to experience Christ in our lives and to see the Christ in the faces of the people we meet.

      It is in that spirit that I am adding a new section to a prayer diary, which I am entitling Word and Image. Let me explain.  

      I keep a daily calendar of scripture. During my morning prayer time I write down a Biblical verse that resonates with me, and then throughout the day I do my best to think about it and to pray with it. As the year goes on I consider to whom I will give the calendar, and at the end of December I wrap it up and include a note, suggesting that when the right times comes, the recipient might pass it on to someone else.

       I’ve been doing this for about fifteen years, giving the first one to my mom. When she died I gave her calendar to her minister, who, just about a year after, passed it on to a grieving couple she knew. Maybe at the opportune time they will place it in someone else’s hands, but I don’t need to know. The recipients of several other calendars have died, and although I wonder what has become of their calendars, I trust that they are just where the ought to be.

      Lately I’ve added another ritual to my morning prayer, praying with a piece of art, as an icon, I might say. Usually it’s a painting, but sometimes it’s a piece of sculpture, tapestry, pottery, photography, architecture (I’m open to new possibilities). I select from the treasure trove of postcards that I have acquired through my travels, but I am branching out to books, museums and the internet. My favorite subject is the Annunciation, but again, ‘What else might be out there?’

      This new section to a prayer diary offers these two rituals, scripture and visual art, Word and Image. I make no attempt to related the two (as I do in my daily quote and blog entries) and yet, sometimes that will happen, for as we know God works in mysterious ways.

My cousin in California died yesterday. As I wrote on my cottagebythesea.net blog, “He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few days before this eightieth birthday and died five weeks later under hospice care with his children tending to him. A good death, as the saying goes.”

     What I want to share here is what that a good death means to me from a prayer perspective—that my cousin felt God’s presence, that he knew God was there with him during this last part of his journey. Of course, I believe that God is there for everyone, all the time and certainly at the end of life, but the grace is when the person knows and feels God’s presence and embrace. Maybe that’s why I’m so intent (obsessed?) on doing my part to let God into my life. At my ending I want to feel the peace of God that passes all understanding.

     My mom had this peace and so did my cousin. When I talked with him two weeks before he died, he told me that he was at peace about ‘the God piece’. Daily I prayed the Twenty-third Psalm with him and he knew it. Thankfully I didn’t have to pray it secretly or ‘behind the scenes’ as it were.

     I hadn’t kept up with my cousin much over the years, but I felt incredibly close to him when it seemed to matter most for both of us. That is grace, and for that, I am ‘very grateful’.

The other day a friend told me that she prays the Twenty-third Psalm for people. I loved the idea and so I started, praying it for my cousin who is in hospice care. Powerful, powerful! I’m aware that my explanation falls short of what I felt and envisioned, but here it is--that I was accompanying him, that his family with him, that I saw him walking ahead in the light.

      Give it a try. Pray the Psalm 23 for someone in need, or maybe just someone you love.

The other day I blogged about praying with someone, not for them. Since then, here’s what I’ve been noticing. I feel like I’m on the journey with the person, experiencing compassion, being in solidarity. This, in contrast to being separate and judgmental. The role of being a judge and knowing what’s right for them (something I can too easily do) just isn’t there. Regardless of what I believe about prayer, this praying with clears and opens the channels between me and God.

I had something else in mind to blog about today but it will have to wait. A Face Book friend posted the following and I just have to share it. Jesus talks about forgiveness, and here it is, parents forgiving the murderer of their daughter. Forgiveness was central to their faith, and doing so in this horrific situation, it kept them faithful.

Please, take the time to read the article. At the moment I don't know how to add a link. Hopefully you can find it with the information below.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/06/magazine/can-forgiveness-play-a-role-in-criminal-justice.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

I’ve been reading, “The Sermon on the Mount: The Key to Success,” by Emmet Fox, published in 1934, and renewed by HarperColins in 1989. Today the book offered this little gem, “Handle your problems spiritually.” Sounds so obvious. That’s what we people of faith do. Or do we? I realize that without even being aware of it, I slip into categorizing my problems; those I give to God and those I decide to solve myself.

    Spending so much time at the cottage make this duality particularly apparent. Here, accompanied by the sunrise, I center myself with God; on the beach, I walk and talk with God; at twilight I give thanks to God. Although I do email, I don’t watch TV and rarely do I talk on the phone or see anyone. God handles my problems with ease—my ease that is.

     On the other hand, when I’m home, leading the usual everyday life that most of us experience, I push God to the side--not consciously of course. It’s just that my analytic, problem solving mind, in excellent shape and fine tuned from years of experience, takes over. I act like the sole player of a professional sport’s team out to win the championship.

     I like to think that this time at the cottage by the sea is helping me play full time on God’s team; I believe it is. I am aware that the time here is a blessing, a gift from God. But switching teams doesn’t have to take all the sunrises that I experience, although a few days in solitude sure do help us handle our problems spiritually. Thus, my prayer is that people reading my blogs will be blessed with their own sunrises, beaches and twilights. Making time and finding the right space is a great way to start handling your problems spiritually. It can be done: ask God.

How can I not express gratitude on this gorgeous Epiphany morning as I watched the sunrise and walked the beach? Although the Wisemen’s treasure chests of gold, frankincense, and myrrh remind me of the abundance of God’s gift of Jesus, what I hear God asking me for is an abundance of gratitude.