So we do what must be done. Many times we're content to be exactly where we are. Sometimes, however, the grass can look greener inside the monastic fence, and I will admit that "rush hour," for me, is a time when my own grass can seem seriously withered. This is due in large part (for me) to a kind of physical and mental lagginess that tends to hit in late afternoon, and has for as long as I can remember. It's the time of day when I'm tired, draggy, and most likely to feel - well, grumbly. Through the years, I've learned that I am not the only person to feel washed out at that time. Yet this is when people have to get themselves home from work, food must be prepared (sometimes by the same individuals who have just plowed their way through traffic), and children may need a bit of extra referee-ing.
When the body is exhausted and the mind is reeling from a day's work, even the humdrum tasks of late afternoon can seem immense. "I remember reading," said our friend Rose some time ago,"that obedience to one's superior is more meritorious than all the self-imposed mortifications, fastings and prayers. Then I realized my superior is really my vocation as a wife and mother. Therefore, my duties and responsibilities of motherhood must come first. And, done with the right intentions (as St. Francis de Sales says, 'for the greater glory of God'), all my actions are lifted up in prayer."
Those in a cloister come to Vespers out of obedience. They gather to pray when they feel like doing so, and when they do not.
When my day starts to bend toward evening, it is time for a particular kind of "Vespers." It's a time when I can offer my duties, my care for those around me, any rush-hour hassles I may face, and even my own dragginess, to God.
By being made into an offering, these can become my evening prayer.
“When
you use the analogy of the grille of God’s will and imagine yourself protected
by it, you really do see things in a new light. I think a perfect example of
this was when I placed myself there on my 40 minute drives back and forth to
work, battling very unpleasant traffic. Suddenly it didn’t matter if everyone
seemed to try to push me out of the way - I was alone with God and nothing else
was of any concern.” (from our friend Jane) God “can say to someone driving that car bumper to bumper, ‘I will lead you into solitude and there I will speak to your heart. (Hosea 2:14).’” (Catherine de Hueck Doherty, Poustinia, Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame IN, 1975, p. 22)
To continue our second monastic day, click this line
