Thee Thou Thum- A Converts Return To Praying
I'm still nervous about praying in front of a large group of people.
When I was a little girl, my relationship with Heavenly Father was rock solid. At a very young age, my grandmother taught me how to pray. Many nights were spent kneeling next to my bed at her house spending a few moments before we went to bed in quiet reflection with Heavenly Father.
One of my favorite prayers when I was little went like this.
In my little bed, I lie
Heavenly Father hear my cry
Lord protect me through the night
And keep me safe till morning light
Not to be left out was my second favorite prayer of all time.
Pray for mommy
Pray for daddy
Pray for God to bless me
And make me a good little girl.
In Jesus name. Amen
Sure, I wasn't going to be winning style points for my praying abilities but I knew in my littlest of hearts that pray time was my favorite part of my day. Since I spent a lot of my childhood living at her house, I knew things like praying, church and God needed to be integral parts of my life.
Then I hit the rough years.
When I returned to my parents house, praying became a chore that I would always postpone until the last minute. Then under the influences of high school peer pressure and in an attempt to shake off my good Christian girl image, praying fell to the bottom of my priority list.
I had schoolwork. I had housework. I had a social life. Excuses..Excuses... I made them all.
My lack of praying led to some weird conversations with Heavenly Father. As an undercover prayer, I adopted a habit of casual conversations as I went along my day. To the average person, I seemed like the typical Christian teenager who was deeply rooted in faith but behind the smoke and mirrors, I was far from living my best life.
I still made excuses. Praying kept getting shoved under a pile of things on my to-do list until I gave up entirely on what I considered a silly notion.
Jesus knew what was in my heart.
I was a good person
What difference would a prayer make?
It turned out to make a hell of a difference. After a few lessons with my O.G missionaries, at the end of the lesson, I was asked to pray. By now, I was so rusty at speaking reverently to Heavenly Father that I could only manage two sentences of good content before I hurriedly and somewhat politely hurried the girls off my step. (In those days I was still afraid of what people would think of me so I would always be paranoid about being seen with the missionaries)
How important was prayer anyhow? It wasn't like the world would evaporate if I didn't pray every day. The girls set me a task of praying to ask if the things they taught were true and to find the answers I needed for myself. However, as they came each week, I somehow had either forgotten to pray or had scoffed at their attempts to force me into joining their crazy secret society of out-loud prayers.
One day, after much prodding I ended up following their instructions and praying during our lesson times. By now, transfers had come and there was a missionary who arrived whose gentle prodding made me feel even more inspired to take part more actively in our lessons.
In the middle of my prayer I stopped completely, overwealmed by the Spirit, feeling it work through me for the first time in my life. I knew then the power of prayer and how it could be such a beacon in our lives through our hardest days.
Since then I have been working hard to regain that spiritual connection with our Heavenly Father through the sacredness and humbleness of prayer. Sure, there have been a few snafu's (like when I got my thee's, thou's and thum's all mixed up in sacrament meeting and had the most epic fail of a prayer ever) but I've learned praying is a constant learning process of ironing out the kinks each and every time.
I'm glad I got to relearn how to pray properly and reverently to our Heavenly Father in heaven.
I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ
Amen.
When I was a little girl, my relationship with Heavenly Father was rock solid. At a very young age, my grandmother taught me how to pray. Many nights were spent kneeling next to my bed at her house spending a few moments before we went to bed in quiet reflection with Heavenly Father.
One of my favorite prayers when I was little went like this.
In my little bed, I lie
Heavenly Father hear my cry
Lord protect me through the night
And keep me safe till morning light
Not to be left out was my second favorite prayer of all time.
Pray for mommy
Pray for daddy
Pray for God to bless me
And make me a good little girl.
In Jesus name. Amen
Sure, I wasn't going to be winning style points for my praying abilities but I knew in my littlest of hearts that pray time was my favorite part of my day. Since I spent a lot of my childhood living at her house, I knew things like praying, church and God needed to be integral parts of my life.
Then I hit the rough years.
When I returned to my parents house, praying became a chore that I would always postpone until the last minute. Then under the influences of high school peer pressure and in an attempt to shake off my good Christian girl image, praying fell to the bottom of my priority list.
I had schoolwork. I had housework. I had a social life. Excuses..Excuses... I made them all.
My lack of praying led to some weird conversations with Heavenly Father. As an undercover prayer, I adopted a habit of casual conversations as I went along my day. To the average person, I seemed like the typical Christian teenager who was deeply rooted in faith but behind the smoke and mirrors, I was far from living my best life.
I still made excuses. Praying kept getting shoved under a pile of things on my to-do list until I gave up entirely on what I considered a silly notion.
Jesus knew what was in my heart.
I was a good person
What difference would a prayer make?
It turned out to make a hell of a difference. After a few lessons with my O.G missionaries, at the end of the lesson, I was asked to pray. By now, I was so rusty at speaking reverently to Heavenly Father that I could only manage two sentences of good content before I hurriedly and somewhat politely hurried the girls off my step. (In those days I was still afraid of what people would think of me so I would always be paranoid about being seen with the missionaries)
How important was prayer anyhow? It wasn't like the world would evaporate if I didn't pray every day. The girls set me a task of praying to ask if the things they taught were true and to find the answers I needed for myself. However, as they came each week, I somehow had either forgotten to pray or had scoffed at their attempts to force me into joining their crazy secret society of out-loud prayers.
One day, after much prodding I ended up following their instructions and praying during our lesson times. By now, transfers had come and there was a missionary who arrived whose gentle prodding made me feel even more inspired to take part more actively in our lessons.
In the middle of my prayer I stopped completely, overwealmed by the Spirit, feeling it work through me for the first time in my life. I knew then the power of prayer and how it could be such a beacon in our lives through our hardest days.
Since then I have been working hard to regain that spiritual connection with our Heavenly Father through the sacredness and humbleness of prayer. Sure, there have been a few snafu's (like when I got my thee's, thou's and thum's all mixed up in sacrament meeting and had the most epic fail of a prayer ever) but I've learned praying is a constant learning process of ironing out the kinks each and every time.
I'm glad I got to relearn how to pray properly and reverently to our Heavenly Father in heaven.
I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ
Amen.
Its amazing to me how even as a child you had such strong faith! Mandi has told me that about you! She was so impressed from the day she met you of your sincere desire to know truth and have a relationship with God. So inspiring. You are a spiritual giant and wise beyond your years! ❤❤❤❤
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