My Mom -- God love her -- will often find something in a local newspaper or her home parish bulletin which she’ll send to me and tell me to “tuck away for a future column when you might need it.” After the whirlwind of Holy Week and Easter Sunday, I was grateful to have a “Mom File” to turn to for just such an occasion. The following was printed in a free weekly newspaper out of Boothwyn, Pa., and it is entitled “17th Century Nun’s Prayer.” On this Divine Mercy Sunday weekend, I know that I need to pray this often – which is probably the real reason my Mom sent it:
Lord, you know better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from the craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs.
Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but You know, O Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains as they increase. Help me gracefully endure the tales of others’ pain-sharing with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory but for a growing humility when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may actually be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet; I don’t necessarily need to be a living saint – some of them are so hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.
Lastly, give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people. And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Amen.