Thursday morning I dropped my sons off at school and headed back
home to finish getting ready for work. My stomach hurt and I was
worn down from a tough week.
Thursday morning I dropped my sons off at school and headed back home to finish getting ready for work. My stomach hurt and I was worn down from a tough week.
On days like this, it’s easy to let the challenges of life pile on top of you and bring you down. I had a restless night of sleep, I wasn’t looking forward to eating waffles for breakfast for the fourth day in a row, and I had a big curriculum planning project to complete at work.
Alone in my house at 8am, I could feel sorry for myself and forget that there is much to be thankful for.
As I walked down the hallway to my room, I saw a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. I passed it, of course, because I’m a lazy guy and I told myself I’d pick it up on the way back.
After a few minutes, I rounded the corner on the way back to the kitchen and grabbed the paper, which looked like a receipt or piece of trash.
Opening it before tossing it in the trash can, I discovered it was a prayer:
“Jesus, in times of seemingly hopelessness, thank you for helping me to realize that my hopes, beliefs, ideals, and dreams are still alive. …”
I had to shake my head and smile when I read it. I’m not an overtly religious person, but I talk to the man upstairs on my own time when I’m upset or sorry or thankful. I still tuck my sons in with a prayer each night.
Maybe as a writer I’m making too much of the symbolism of my discovery – this crumpled paper containing a prayer that applied to me. Had I not taken the time to open it, it would be destined for a trip to John Smith Landfill, never to be read again in my house.
But it caught my eye, and I paused to read it, and it made me feel better. I assume it fell out of the pocket of one of my sons, who attend Sacred Heart School – where religion is part of the curriculum.
Maybe they read this prayer in class or at Mass with their fellow students. Then they crumpled it up and stuffed it in their pocket. I’m glad it fell out of wherever, because it would have surely have made it to the washing machine and dryer, shredding over all the clothes in that load.
Instead, it became a little piece of symbolism that eased my mind a bit on a difficult morning. It is a reminder that my troubles or discomforts should not be construed as hopelessness, but merely challenges that can be overcome.
We all occasionally need a reminder that things are not as bad as they may seem.
I was reminded this week that a discarded prayer doesn’t lose its meaning. In fact, sometimes it has more meaning the second time around.
Adam Breen teaches journalism and yearbook at San Benito High School. He is former editor of The Free Lance.
