An education in prayer

I attended catholic school growing up and up until my first communion, I had no real beef with the Church or with God. Sometime in 2nd or 3rd grade though it all went south. I started noticing all the things I didn't like about forced congregation. The smell of incense and other disquieting scents emanating from this high ceiling wooden steeple. Not surprising, it was the kneeling that bugged me most. I loathed it. I know, imagine, a 9 year old who doesn't want to sit on his knees for an extended period of time. But looking back it was more than that, or it somehow started there.

I began questioning all the pageantry, and then the people. Then I got angry. Kneeling was a painful chore I was forced to do and for what I thought at the time? Because somebody was telling me to. That made me angrier until I just started drifting away.

It took me a long time to make peace with that frustration and anger. A show this weekend reminded me of kneeling, describing its purpose: to humble my ego, not bow down to a fire and brimstone creator and browbeat myself. Somewhere along the way I mixed that up. It wasn't until I was 27 that I decided to try it again. I keep trying and my new education in prayer looks different than the foxhole prayers of a child not getting his way. Most days anyhow.

I'm not sure if I'll be a church goer again. But I do pray now, every day. Very differently though. Sometimes, when my ego can stomach it, even on my knees.