Emily Parnell: Family prayers reflect our connection with one another and the world

Most evenings, our family sits down for dinner together. Before eating, we ask a blessing.

Go ahead right now and vanquish any scenes that entered your mind reminiscent of a Normal Rockwell painting. We usually have a grumpy party or two, sometimes there’s a pile of stuff shoved to one end of the table to make room for the dinner plates, and unless my husband cooks, I skate by with as quick and simple a dinner as I dare.

Still, we observe at least a minimal outline of a ritual.

The prayer has become an important part of our together time.

We take turns praying. Some evenings, my husband or I are the ones to say grace. But as the kids got older, they began to share in the prayer duties.

Our son always resisted, saying he didn’t know how to pray. We taught him the formulaic prayer outline that usually suffices when praying out loud in front of others. Public prayer is show time, with pressure to speak with eloquence and sound wise.

“Just name a few people or other things you’re thankful for, ask for God to help those in need, and give kudos to the cook for their work putting the meal on the table.” It’s the cookie-cutter dinner prayer, works in any situation.

Our daughter never needed a formula. Her prayers are like improvised jazz, joyful and intense with unexpected twists and turns, ups and downs, and they go on for quite some time. She loves to pray.

One of our pre-meal prayers, led by her, might sound like this:

Dear God,

Thank you for my friends, (insert long list of names) and Grandma and Grandpa and my other Grandma and Grandpa and my Great Grandpa and Aunt (insert another long list, including several deceased) and thank you for butterflies and flowers and the grass and the sky and for narwhals…

[interruption]

Oh, my, gosh, SYLVIE! You can’t thank God for dead people.

[adult interruption]

Shhhh! Let her finish!

[prayer, continued] ...and thank you for asparagus, even though I don’t like it, and for cows because they’re delicious, and cute, and they moo, and help Daddy with his picture he’s drawing and help Mommy do good on her Facebook…

[adult voice — to beagle trying to sneak butter off the table]

GET DOWN!

[prayer continuation] ...and please help the hurt butterfly from camp last year be OK and….

You get the drift, right? Norman Rockwell wouldn’t know quite what to do with us.

Our family prayer is a moment where we see into each others’ days. We hear each other’s hopes, dreams and fears, all posed as praises and petitions to our Caretaker. It’s moments where my family hears how I want my book that I toiled over to be a raging success — but only so it will benefit them. It’s moments where my husband shows his thoughtfulness for us all and desire that we all will succeed. It’s a communication to the great beyond, but it’s a communication to each other, as well.

Not long ago, we ganged up on my son. It had been, I don’t know, a year or more since he’d prayed. He always clammed up and begged off.

“Come on, you can do it,” we demanded. Then we all sat silently, waiting for him to say something. Finally, begrudgingly, he did.

“Dear God,” he began. “Thank you for giving us choices and for creating us open-minded.”

Tears came to my eyes. It’s a prayer I’d never heard, a sentiment of wisdom and eloquence. One we all should consider.

Prayer isn’t a rule-based formula. It’s an improv. It’s a reflection of our understanding, our connection with this world and what lies beyond.

This story was originally published April 28, 2015 at 3:27 PM with the headline "Emily Parnell: Family prayers reflect our connection with one another and the world."