Whoever’s Praying for Snow, Please Stop!

Those words could have been uttered by any number of town and city mayors, snowplow operators, or others impacted by the heavy snowfall this year, and if they were they’d be in agreement with the message board outside the rural New England church where I noticed them.

My mother, Doris, often warned, “Be careful what you pray for,” and on one occasion when I admonished her to never end a sentence with a preposition she responded by saying, “That’s what it’s about.” I’m not sure what she meant, but the sixth grader I was at the time knew I’d been scolded for taking both spiritual and secular authority lightly.

Over the years I have become increasingly appreciative of the soothing practice of prayer, an often times random exercise, a leap of faith without attachment to the consequence or end-goal. My prayerful meanderings may run the gamut from lament to gratitude, but in either case, or all scenarios in between, I don’t necessarily need the “snow to stop falling.”

Freud believed that the introspective process of psychoanalysis, or throwing light on the darkest recesses of our soul, would elucidate conflict and enable us to experience the uniqueness in each of our lives. It is the process of delving into the soul and embracing the struggle between, say, depression and joy that provides our lives with its deepest meaning.

William James, the 19^th Century philosopher, psychologist, and physician spoke of the mind’s “booming, buzzing confusion.” Among his most meaningful and real-life experiences were ones in which he fleetingly experienced the presence of God, moments he often attributed to “phantasies of the brain,” and frequently questioned, but nonetheless experienced with “exaltation and insight.”

Doris Marum never published a book, lectured in front of anyone but her husband and two sons, had no degree beyond her high school diploma—but she knew some things—even though there were times when her own truths eluded her. The sayings that she proffered often met my glazed-over eyes, and though I nodded assent I just “wanted out of there,” and acknowledging her advice was the quickest ticket to wherever I was headed.

I remember rolling my eyes when she would state, “Pray as if it all depends on God, and work as if it all depends on you.” Perhaps there were times when I prayed with a fervor she would have admired, and maybe I worked hard enough, on occasion, to warrant her approving smile. Most of the time I experienced her declarations as hectoring—pontifications to get me to do something I was reluctant or failing to do.

Though I’ve often been reluctant to buy into their ideas [completely], Sigmund Freud and William James have provided much of the underpinning for my view of our inner world, the soul, and how we struggle with emotional conflict to live the best life possible. My mother, bless her soul, spoke words of truth, and even though I questioned her embodiment of them—she was frequently spot-on (another preposition!).

It is still snowing in Boston, so I’m not sure whose prayers are being heard, if any, let alone acted upon (whoops).

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