Sheila Sims Iding
This is the second part of my prayer each morning on the way to school. I start with the prayer I wrote about in an earlier blog and this one piggy back’s right on it. The two prayers have almost become one prayer for me.
What is special about this prayer is that it is my grandfather’s. And you’d have to know my grandfather to know why it is important to me. I only knew one grandfather. My dad’s father died in Canada when my dad was only 6 years old, so I never knew him. My mom’s father is the only grandpa I ever knew…kind of.
Because my mom was an invalid we went to live with my grandparents in Grosse Pointe Park every summer. We left the day after school got out and we came back Labor Day Weekend. We lived the whole summer with my grandparents and to this day I don’t know how they all did it.
I don’t know how my dad said goodbye to us for the whole summer. I am sure it had to be hard for him. To load us all in the car with a few belongings and take us to “nanny and grandpa’s” for the whole summer. Back before emails and skype and back when long distance calls were a luxury. Phone calls cost so much money you were very careful about each minute. I am sure my dad felt some relief but it had to be hard to give up that night time routine of saying prayers and tucking in. (I know as a little girl, it was hard for me.)
I don’t know how hard it was for my mom to not be able to care for her kids. At some point that had to be a tough reality slap for her and a victory for her disease. To be so sick that you couldn’t take care of your kids. To be so sick they were taken away from you the whole summer.
I can’t imagine how hard it had to be for my grandma. Nanny was a saint. She was as busy as ladies that generation were. They were busy keeping house and finding great pride in it. She cook, cleaned, sewed clothes and ironed linens for the church altar. She made soup for the Mariners Church in downtown Detroit, did typing for the parish office and, let’s be honest, waited on my grandfather night and day.
I’m not sure how hard it was on my grandfather because I hardly knew him. He had a soft spot for my middle sister, Sharon and she would sit on his lap and he would help her with handwriting. But he had no time for me. He was busy golfing and doing the things he liked to do and ignored me. He was never mean or unkind to me. Ever. But I never remember a hug, a smile or an interaction. I remember getting Lifesavers when we rode in the car with him so I am pretty sure it was a case of being seen and not heard.
Anyway…my only connection to my grandfather is this prayer. It was in the front of his prayer book. I would take his prayer book off his dresser (after sneaking into his room) and I would look at the gold leaf pages that were so beautiful and take this card out of the front. I not only read it, I memorized it. I think I loved the wording and I loved that it rhymed. The prayer called to me…and it connected me with my grandfather.
When the boys and I prayed on the way to school each day, I was amazed at how this prayer came back to my memory. Not one word was lost. I recollected it because it was entitled “The Morning Prayer” so I thought it would be perfect for our morning prayers on the way to school.
Now, as I say it alone every morning, it seems like it was written especially for teachers…but it wasn’t. But each word speaks to my teacher heart as I start the morning.
The Morning Prayer
Lord, in the quiet of this morning hour,
I come to you for peace, for wisdom and power.
To view the world through love-filled eyes.
To be patient, understanding, gentle, wise.
To see beyond what seems to be.
To know thy children as thou knowest them.
So nothing but the good in anyone behold.
Make deaf my ears to slander that is told.
Silence my tongue to words that are unkind.
Let only thoughts that bless dwell within my mind.
Let me so humbly be so full of cheer
That I may feel thy presence near.
O clothe me in thy beauty, Lord, this I pray
Be with me throughout this day. Amen.
My grandpa wasn’t a great man at grandfathering but he was a man of great faith. Like many of us, I watched my grandparents pray in quiet times. I knew he gave up his home (and peace and quiet and sanity) to three little girls every summer. I knew he shared his servant wife with 3 grand-daughters every summer. I knew he had a daughter with multiple sclerosis and his only other daughter had died. I knew at some level his heart had to be broken. I knew he was a WWI veteran, hard worker, stubborn Scottish man.
I knew from his worn prayer book that he was a man of great faith with a special prayer tucked in the front cover. What I didn’t know when I was engraving these words in my heart, that this prayer would inspire me to teach every day and be the only connection I had to my grandpa. I would have loved a hug, a new toy, a chance to sit on his lap. But I got something so valuable. Without even knowing it he shared his “Morning Prayer” with me and still does to this day…each and every morning I drive to school. Thanks, grandpa.