I have always been a walker and a watcher. I study the details of neighborhood houses and in the nearby pond, and on the evergreens near our mountain cabin. Walks keep me energized and sane. Without them, my system turns to ick. For years, I have taken my Facebook friends with me and posted photos of my strolls; I captioned them “morning walk.” A few months ago, I changed that to “morning prayer.”
The idea came to me, as many ideas do, from lunch with a friend. She was distraught about the state of our country and felt her acts of resistance were futile. I think all I have left is prayer, she said. I told her I’d been feeling the same thing.
I thought about this a bit and decided to turn my photos into prayers and post them.
I was uncomfortable doing this at first, worrying that I would come off as some sort of religious nut. Liberals too often hide their spirituality out of a sense of moral politeness. Yet most of my like-minded friends are regular churchgoers, and our church community is an essential part of our lives.
I am not an overtly prayerful person, although I’ve always prayed, one way or another. I attended Catholic schools from first grade through high school. As a kid, I went to church most Sundays and many weekdays, carrying my little white leather prayer book until I became way too cool for it. Usually, I daydreamed during Mass, but I always followed the prayers. I found them meditative.
I’m totally unqualified to have any sort of theological discussion, despite all that education, but I have benefitted from the wisdom of the many holy women I am fortunate to call friends. They have taught me that prayer can be formal but doesn’t need to be. It can be an essential part of a religious service, but it also exists outside of religion. Maybe that’s where it lives most strongly for me.
My morning Facebook prayers initially were of the sunrise from our balcony, because it was too cold to go for much of a walk, and nature was monochromatic. Plus, the sunrise felt like an act of God. Then I added shots of the sunset or the moon as an evening prayer. As spring came, the shots turned into irises and roses, ponds, and budding trees. Sometimes I add an afternoon prayer if I have spillover beauty. Now, they sparkle in autumn's gold.
The photos are a chance for me to stop, breathe, give gratitude, ask for help, express sorrow, or do whatever else my spirit needs. My friends can join me or scroll right on. I’m not telling them to pray; I’m just sharing what makes me prayerful.
Religion does not always mean goodness and virtue. Sadly, throughout history, it’s often meant the opposite. But anyone can pray. And my daily photos of nature’s beauty give me a reason to at least inhale and give thanks.
It’s much better than inhaling the venom that too often fills my screen.
Recently a former student messaged me in thanks for a photo of a flower I had just posted as a prayer. It reminded her of her mother, who had died a couple years ago. She sent the note in the evening, and we had a sweet virtual conversation, right before I headed to bed.
“I’m so glad we reconnected,” she said.
“Me too,” I answered.
To me, that was an answer to a prayer. I fell asleep that night with a memory of a beloved mother, a peony, and a treasured student. And when I woke up the next morning and wanted to be lazy, I put on my clothes instead and went to the park, phone in hand, looking for prayers.