End of Day Prayer
Kathleen Farris • July 3, 2020
What words do you use at the end of your day?
 Growing up Catholic, I was taught to say prayers at bedtime while kneeling by my bedside.  One of the prayers started with "Now I lay me down to sleep..."  I loved the beginning, but the ending always made me feel scared.  It ended with, "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take" and as a child I didn't want to focus on dying.  How was I supposed to sleep with that worry fresh in my mind?  Wasn't there already enough to worry about? I spent countless hours lying in bed fretting about dying as a kid.  Needless to say, I was a worrier! As I grew up, I drifted away from formal prayers, opting instead to just speak from my heart.  When I had my daughter, I wanted to give her a spiritual foundation, so I brought all of the "old" prayers and traditions out and dusted them off to use with her as she grew up.  Still that one prayer made me feel uneasy.  
 
 Fast forward to 2020 as I strive to incorporate my Catholic upbringing with my mediumistic lifestyle.  Can the two worlds coexist?  I have found that they can.  I've explored several religions, including Spiritualism, and I'm relieved to find that there is truth in all religions, while one religion may (or may not) hold all of the truths.  I can use some of my Catholic prayers and traditions while also using Sanskrit mantras, mala beads, sage and crystals. I can create habits and routines that best suit my needs by borrowing from various traditions, while respecting all religions and beliefs. Of course, that one pesky prayer was still nagging at me.  I decided to try to edit it or modify it so that it felt less scary, or less worrisome, for me.  Here is the newly-written version, which includes the original version of the prayer and a quote from Mavis Pittilla.
 
 Now I lay me down to sleep
 
 I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
 
 If I should die before I wake,
 
 I pray the Lord my soul to take.
 
 If I should live another day,
 
 I pray, Lord, bless my work and play.
 
 Let me show peace, hope and love,
 
 To benefit those here and above.
 
 Let my life be in service to
 
 The spirit world and those of you
 
 Who cross my path or seek me out.
 
 The continuity of the soul ~ let there be no doubt
 
 In the minds of us all. God I pray that I
 
 Can prove that "Love, like life, can never die."
 

Growing up, I dealt with an alcoholic family member.  As an angsty teen, I turned to poetry to try to make sense of it all.  Here is one of those poems written when I was 17.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         A Ship in a Bottle                                                                                                                                                                                   I am a grand sailing ship                                                                                                                                                                                   Bedecked in splendor                                                                                                                                                                                   With billowing sails                                                                                                                                                                                   And tall masts.                                                                                                                                                                                   I am full of rooms and compartments.                                                                                                                                                                                   I have so many hidden places                                                                                                                                                                                   That people on the outside cannot see.                                                                                                                                                                                   But I know them.                                                                                                                                                                                   And I hide them so they                                                                                                                                                                                   Cannot tarnish the exterior                                                                                                                                                                                   Of my grand sailing ship.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         I am a little canoe                                                                                                                                                                                   With no oars,                                                                                                                                                                                   No paddles,                                                                                                                                                                                   Lost on the sea.                                                                                                                                                                                   I am small                                                                                                                                                                                   And empty,                                                                                                                                                                                   Battered by the waves                                                                                                                                                                                   And eaten away                                                                                                                                                                                   By worms.                                                                                                                                                                                   I am a boat with no direction,                                                                                                                                                                                   I am drifting and lost.                                                                                                                                                                                   I am helpless.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         People outside the bottle                                                                                                                                                                                   See the grand sailing ship.                                                                                                                                                                                   But underneath it’s majesty and beauty                                                                                                                                                                                   Is the truth:                                                                                                                                                                                   The weary little canoe,                                                                                                                                                                                   Battered and beaten.                                                                                                                                                                                   The meager boat who tries to                                                                                                                                                                                   Put on airs and be magnificent                                                                                                                                                                                   In a stormy sea                                                                                                                                                                                   In turbulent waters                                                                                                                                                                                   In the midst of violence.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         The sea here in this bottle                                                                                                                                                                                   Is not a sea of salt,                                                                                                                                                                                   But of liquor.                                                                                                                                                                                   And every shot                                                                                                                                                                                   Chips away at the façade                                                                                                                                                                                   Of the grand sailing ship.                                                                                                                                                                                   Every ounce                                                                                                                                                                                   Nourishes the worms                                                                                                                                                                                   That eat away at the little canoe.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Every time                                                                                                                                                                                   He tips back the bottle,                                                                                                                                                                                   The grand sailing ship                                                                                                                                                                                   Crashes.                                                                                                                                                                                   And the little canoe                                                                                                                                                                                   Grows smaller.                                                                                                                                                                                   Soon,                                                                                                                                                                                   All that people see                                                                                                                                                                                   Is the bottle.                                                                                                                                                                                   For the sea                                                                                                                                                                                   Engulfed                                                                                                                                                                                   The grand sailing ship.                                                                                                                                                                                   The weary little canoe                                                                                                                                                                                   Gave up its struggle                                                                                                                                                                                   And sank.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Kathleen Brennan                                                                                                                        1987
 



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