Our father who art in the shower

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this routine where I silently pray every morning in the shower. It’s always just been a nice way to connect with God before the hectic day begins.

Shower praying is a routine that can be revitalizing in many ways. Usually, I start by asking for guidance and saying a word or two of thanksgiving. If times are tough, I imagine the water carrying all the fear, anger, confusion and negativity down the drain. Lately, however, I’ve noticed that what used to be lovely little colloquial invocations have turned into something more closely resembling holy mumble jumble. For example, this morning’s prayer went something like this:

Our Father who art in heaven,
I wonder if we’re going to meet today’s deadlines.
Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
The water’s too hot, now it’s too cold.
Now it’s just right.
On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us,
Darn neighbor sounds like a herd of elephants coming down those stairs.
I wonder if he can hear my music.
I probably should have turned it down a little.
Now I feel bad.

And lead us not into temptation
Man, I’m already looking forward to happy hour.
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
And the power, and the glory…

Um … And the power, and the glory…
Oh shoot, where was I?

(Deep sigh)
Our Father who art in heaven…

Distracted doesn’t even begin to explain how most of my mornings begin lately. And I can’t help but wonder about the other consequences. Surely butchering the longest-standing prayer in all of Christianity can’t be the only side effect of being this scattered.

Case in point — last Friday, I went to meet a friend at a lovely bar in Bay View, except I went to the wrong bar. It was the perfect end to a week filled with mishaps, forgetfulness and missteps made simply because I’m overwhelmed. Last weekend, I even got lost trying to drive cross country to my parents’ house (while using GPS). These occurrences are a little humorous but mostly, they’re disturbing.

I think I’d be even more disturbed if deep down, I didn’t know exactly what’s causing my inability to connect A to B sometimes. And while it’s not something I can share (mostly because I can’t articulate it), I can say this: it has to do with doing too much. Spreading myself too thin. And convincing myself that’s the way I want it to be.

If ever there was a time to take a break, it’s now. So I’m taking a few days in February and spending them at a hermitage three hours away from the city. I’m looking forward to the time away — and even more so to coming back, able to focus. Wish me luck — and I will be writing while I’m gone.