• Facebook
  • Twitter

Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

  • Home
  • My Books
  • Essays
  • Contact
  • About Me

Dreaded Family Evening Prayers at my Grandmother’s House (From my Memoir-in-Progress, “I Lift up my Eyes to the Hills”)

By Anita Mathias


Our Lady of Velankanni

        

We walked through the dark living room with its de rigueur shrine on a crocheted tablecloth: a pious assemblage of souvenirs from other people’s trips to Rome, Lourdes, Fatima or our native Velankanni—cloudy bottles of holy water, silver cameo triptychs of the Holy Family, mortuary cards, “holy pictures.”
 The “Sacred Heart” smiled, revealing his thorn-pierced heart.  Rainbow lights twinkled around a blue-sashed haloed Virgin who, when cupped in one’s hands, glowed, eerie luminous phosphorous in the conjured-up darkness.  The red glow of a Martian flame-shaped bulb bathed rosaries with gold and silver beads, and the recumbent Infant Jesus of Prague who kicked his silver legs in baby glee.   
The most frequent spiritual experience of my Catholic childhood was not the numinous–when the veil parts, and you glimpse the elegance of the Grandmaster, and time stands still while you are wracked by joy.  That came later.  My most common emotion was boredom—continuous mental calculations: the ratio of Hail Marys said to Hail Marys left.  Of the Mass said to the Mass unsaid.  In fractions, in decimals.
As I walked through Palm Grove, Norman growled from rooms away.  “Anita, don’t drag your feet.”  “What a disgrace, him having to scold you so often,” my mother said later.  “Why do you drag your feet?” 
I dragged them to evening prayers at “the family altar”, squirmy phrase.  Each evening, as darkness fell, Norman knelt on the cold stone floor to lead us in the rosary, his head tilted backwards to gaze at the Virgin, his arms outstretched like the crucified Christ (a quite unnecessary, unprescribed piety; wherever did he get the idea from?) outstretched rigidly, as sixty-six slow rosary beads dripped through his fingers, Credo, Pater Noster, Ave Maria, Gloria. 
“Hail Mary, full of grace,” he proclaimed with brisk gusto and hints of admonishment: “See me, so old; see my reverence.  And yours?”  Or so I read the language of his body, as he trawled us through the rosary, present purgatory to abbreviate a future one. 
My father knelt, which he never did at home, unwilling to be shamed by his uncle’s piety, or perhaps because he expected it was expected.  A frown and a frequent downward jerk of his head suggested that I do likewise, which I did not, the embarrassment of conforming to this atypical sanctimoniousness being roughly equal to the embarrassment of refusing to.
“Holy Mary,” my father muttered, frowning grimly as he did under scrutinizing eyes, as he did whenever I was in the vicinity of a nun, or a smiling gossip.  And so it went on, sempiternal, Chinese water torture.  Mosquitoes buzzed in the darkness; I wanted to itch.  I wanted to bay in exasperation.
Though my grandmother, Josephine, sat primly in her rocking chair, studying her rosary beads, serious and contemplative as a Van Gogh woman, I wondered if she was enduring it as much as my father was, as much as I was, this flamboyant fervency imposed on us by Norman.  
 After prayers, I inched towards the dog on the verandah who strained towards me, snarling, steel chain taut, teeth bared.  I boasted that I could gentle even savage Cave Canem watch dogs, talking to them at a distance, going ever closer, my outstretched hand just out of biting range, talking, talking, until their eyes hinted I could stroke them.  But—can any crime be uglier than mutating the natural sweetness of an animal or a child?–Tibby had deliberately been brutalized. 
And now memory cowers, as at the knowledge of a impending burn,.  In the lazy afternoons, Norman, siesta-rested, took his walking stick to methodically, savagely, beat the cowering dog who, with high broken-hearted yelps of desperation, helplessly bent his head, screwing his eyes shut in terror, as if blindness might shield him from pain.  At any moment, the dog could have swerved and bitten the man, but did not. Humane, brutish,  what ironic adjectives!  I rushed out, near hysteria; my father held me back, muttering, “It is his dog.” 
 “Why?” I asked the terrifying old man.  Norman stalked off, glaring, mumbling.  To render the dog furious, ferocious, so that, when unchained at night to prowl the grounds, he would instantly bite a burglar—following his new-grafted instincts. 

Goals

Start Date—August 27th, 2012

Completion Date—August 31st, 2013


Word Count Goal-120,000

Words per day Goal—470
Progress (Aiming to write 6 days a week, excluding Sundays)
  
Sept 19th Day 21—9922 words written (52 extra)
  


More from my site

  • Do not forget that when we weep, the Lord weeps with usDo not forget that when we weep, the Lord weeps with us
  • My Father’s Sisters: Ethel, “The Grand-duchess,” and Winnie, “The Duchess,” and Joyce (From My Memoir: I Lift up my Eyes to the Hills)My Father’s Sisters: Ethel, “The Grand-duchess,” and Winnie, “The Duchess,” and Joyce (From My Memoir: I Lift up my Eyes to the Hills)
  • Composting–Garden magic.Composting–Garden magic.
  • The Byzantine Art of Mosaics and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, RavennaThe Byzantine Art of Mosaics and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ravenna
  • The Things Worth Doing BadlyThe Things Worth Doing Badly
Share this...
Share on Facebook
Facebook
Tweet about this on Twitter
Twitter

Filed Under: random

« Previous Post
Next Post »

Comments

  1. LA says

    September 22, 2012 at 9:28 pm

    Thanks for your replies. It does raise interesting questions for child rearing.

    For me, I'm being relatively unforced for my son's exploration – providing him with lots of information, answering questions, modelling an active spiritual and ministry-based life, and laying little landmines of information in his path. I ask him lots of questions too and make sure that he understands that he needs to be spiritual and Godly even if it isn't exactly the same way that I'm spiritual.

    My daughter spent most of her formative years with her Buddhist step-mom and dad in Japan, eating vegetarian and with a statue of Buddha by her bedside, and has had the call to clergy since she was 16 and is entering discernment for the priesthood this year. Go figure :).

    Personally, I think that modelling a God-centered life is the biggest gift we can give our kids. Every person is different and their spiritual expression is going to be different. My only rules are “God is Love so Love Everyone” and explore your faith to the fullest extent possible – making God the center of your being.

  2. Anita Mathias says

    September 22, 2012 at 6:53 pm

    So my question to you is…how did this affect your adult prayer life? Negatively and/or positively?

    Negatively, of course. Anyway which makes your relationship with God boring is bound to have a negative effect. Which raises interesting questions when it comes to child-rearing.

    What is your adult perspective on this?

    I cannot bear liturgy, repetition of words, prayers by rote, anything that reminds me of gabbling. Dislike things that add “canned” noise, in particular. By canned, I mean pre-written words.

    As I said, my experience completely eliminated an effective prayer methodology from my adult life. What about yours? Do you ever pray the rosary/prayer beads?

    No, cannot stand the rosary, or the Catholic mass, or shows of piety!! Am more of a contemplative, really.

  3. LA says

    September 21, 2012 at 10:48 am

    And here I thought we were the only family with the dreaded at-home prayer service :). Throughout the years, my parents (bless them!) tried several different ways to incorporate prayer into our daily lives beyond the usual bedtime prayer. But inevitably, it would fall by the wayside as we kids fell asleep at the table doing countless rosaries. One time they thought we'd totally stay awake by making us kneel during the long rosary (complete with the creepy mysteries between the decades). That worked to keep us awake, but my sister kept passing out and crumpling to the floor.

    OK, so the mysteries between the decades are only creepy if you're 7 and the sacred heart is glowing eerily from within the statue on the kitchen table. The lights are all out so that the frighteningly full effect of the statue could be appreciated and the mysteries are always the sorrowful ones never the joyful ones. Mom weeps quietly into her kerchief and dad's voice gravels on. Creepy for a 7 year old with an active imagination.

    I still have an unnerving and slightly ridiculous aversion to prayer beads despite having them presented in all sorts of positive fashions by everyone from Taize brothers to spiritual partners to Episcopal priests to friends. No way no how. Sad, really.

    Thank you for showing me I was not the only person with early prayer experiences that were less than inspiring. So my question to you is…how did this affect your adult prayer life? Negatively and/or positively? What is your adult perspective on this? As I said, my experience completely eliminated an effective prayer methodology from my adult life. What about yours? Do you ever pray the rosary/prayer beads?

  4. Anita Mathias says

    September 20, 2012 at 9:49 pm

    Rachel, thank you for reading. I am aware that the memoir bits are going off-topic for the blog, so am so grateful when people read.
    BTW, love your haiku!
    Blessings,
    Anita

  5. Rachel says

    September 20, 2012 at 5:00 pm

    Thank you for sharing part of your story and your goals, it is hard to understand how some people can be so brutal and then say a “Hail Mary full of grace”, so to speak. I think we all have some recovering to do from that form of abuse.

Sign Up and Get a Free eBook!

Sign up to be emailed my blog posts (one a week) and get the ebook of "Holy Ground," my account of working with Mother Teresa.

Join 634 Other Readers

Follow me on Twitter

Follow @anitamathias1

Anita Mathias: About Me

Anita Mathias

Read my blog on Facebook

My Books

Wandering Between Two Worlds: Essays on Faith and Art

Wandering Between Two Worlds - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Francesco, Artist of Florence: The Man Who Gave Too Much

Francesco, Artist of Florence - Amazom.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

The Story of Dirk Willems

The Story of Dirk Willems - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk
Premier Digital Awards 2015 - Finalist - Blogger of the year
Runner Up Christian Media Awards 2014 - Tweeter of the year

Recent Posts

  •  On Not Wasting a Desert Experience
  • A Mind of Life and Peace in the Middle of a Global Pandemic
  • On Yoga and Following Jesus
  • Silver and Gold Linings in the Storm Clouds of Coronavirus
  • Trust: A Message of Christmas
  • Life- Changing Journaling: A Gratitude Journal, and Habit-Tracker, with Food and Exercise Logs, Time Sheets, a Bullet Journal, Goal Sheets and a Planner
  • On Loving That Which Love You Back
  • “An Autobiography in Five Chapters” and Avoiding Habitual Holes  
  • Shining Faith in Action: Dirk Willems on the Ice
  • The Story of Dirk Willems: The Man who Died to Save His Enemy

Categories

What I’m Reading

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance
Barak Obama

Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance- Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

H Is for Hawk
Helen MacDonald

H Is for Hawk - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Tiny Habits
B. J. Fogg

  Tiny Habits  - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

The Regeneration Trilogy
Pat Barker

  The Regeneration Trilogy  - Amazon.com
Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Archive by month

INSTAGRAM

anita.mathias

Writer, Blogger, Reader, Mum. Christian. Instaing Oxford, travel, gardens and healthy meals. Oxford English alum. Writing memoir. Lives in Oxford, UK

Images from walks around Oxford. #beauty #oxford # Images from walks around Oxford. #beauty #oxford #walking #tranquility #naturephotography #nature
So we had a lovely holiday in the Southwest. And h So we had a lovely holiday in the Southwest. And here we are at one of the world’s most famous and easily recognisable sites.
#stonehenge #travel #england #prehistoric England #family #druids
And I’ve blogged https://anitamathias.com/2020/09/13/on-not-wasting-a-desert-experience/
So, after Paul the Apostle's lightning bolt encounter with the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus, he went into the desert, he tells us...
And there, he received revelation, visions, and had divine encounters. The same Judean desert, where Jesus fasted for forty days before starting his active ministry. Where Moses encountered God. Where David turned from a shepherd to a leader and a King, and more, a man after God’s own heart.  Where Elijah in the throes of a nervous breakdown hears God in a gentle whisper. 
England, where I live, like most of the world is going through a desert experience of continuing partial lockdowns. Covid-19 spreads through human contact and social life, and so we must refrain from those great pleasures. We are invited to the desert, a harsh place where pruning can occur, and spiritual fruitfulness.
A plague like this has not been known for a hundred years... John Piper, after his cancer diagnosis, exhorted people, “Don’t Waste Your Cancer”—since this was the experience God permitted you to have, and He can bring gold from it. Pandemics and plagues are permitted (though not willed or desired) by a Sovereign God, and he can bring life-change out of them. 
Let us not waste this unwanted, unchosen pandemic, this opportunity for silence, solitude and reflection. Let’s not squander on endless Zoom calls—or on the internet, which, if not used wisely, will only raise anxiety levels. Let’s instead accept the invitation to increased silence and reflection
Let's use the extra free time that many of us have long coveted and which has now been given us by Covid-19 restrictions to seek the face of God. To seek revelation. To pray. 
And to work on those projects of our hearts which have been smothered by noise, busyness, and the tumult of people and parties. To nurture the fragile dreams still alive in our hearts. The long-deferred duty or vocation
So, we are about eight weeks into lockdown, and I So, we are about eight weeks into lockdown, and I have totally sunk into the rhythm of it, and have got quiet, very quiet, the quietest spell of time I have had as an adult.
I like it. I will find going back to the sometimes frenetic merry-go-round of my old life rather hard. Well, I doubt I will go back to it. I will prune some activities, and generally live more intentionally and mindfully.
I have started blocking internet of my phone and laptop for longer periods of time, and that has brought a lot of internal quiet and peace.
Some of the things I have enjoyed during lockdown have been my daily long walks, and gardening. Well, and reading and working on a longer piece of work.
Here are some images from my walks.
And if you missed it, a blog about maintaining peace in the middle of the storm of a global pandemic
https://anitamathias.com/2020/05/04/a-mind-of-life-and-peace/  #walking #contemplating #beauty #oxford #pandemic
A few walks in Oxford in the time of quarantine. A few walks in Oxford in the time of quarantine.  We can maintain a mind of life and peace during this period of lockdown by being mindful of our minds, and regulating them through meditation; being mindful of our bodies and keeping them happy by exercise and yoga; and being mindful of our emotions in this uncertain time, and trusting God who remains in charge. A new blog on maintaining a mind of life and peace during lockdown https://anitamathias.com/2020/05/04/a-mind-of-life-and-peace/
In the days when one could still travel, i.e. Janu In the days when one could still travel, i.e. January 2020, which seems like another life, all four of us spent 10 days in Malta. I unplugged, and logged off social media, so here are some belated iphone photos of a day in Valetta.
Today, of course, there’s a lockdown, and the country’s leader is in intensive care.
When the world is too much with us, and the news stresses us, moving one’s body, as in yoga or walking, calms the mind. I am doing some Yoga with Adriene, and again seeing the similarities between the practice of Yoga and the practice of following Christ.
https://anitamathias.com/2020/04/06/on-yoga-and-following-jesus/
#valleta #valletamalta #travel #travelgram #uncagedbird
Images from some recent walks in Oxford. I am copi Images from some recent walks in Oxford.
I am coping with lockdown by really, really enjoying my daily 4 mile walk. By savouring the peace of wild things. By trusting that God will bring good out of this. With a bit of yoga, and weights. And by working a fair amount in my garden. And reading.
How are you doing?
#oxford #oxfordinlockdown #lockdown #walk #lockdownwalks #peace #beauty #happiness #joy #thepeaceofwildthings
Images of walks in Oxford in this time of social d Images of walks in Oxford in this time of social distancing. The first two are my own garden.  And I’ve https://anitamathias.com/2020/03/28/silver-and-gold-linings-in-the-storm-clouds-of-coronavirus/ #corona #socialdistancing #silverlinings #silence #solitude #peace
Trust: A Message of Christmas He came to earth in Trust: A Message of Christmas  He came to earth in a  splash of energy
And gentleness and humility.
That homeless baby in the barn
Would be the lynchpin on which history would ever after turn
Who would have thought it?
But perhaps those attuned to God’s way of surprises would not be surprised.
He was already at the centre of all things, connecting all things. * * *
Augustus Caesar issued a decree which brought him to Bethlehem,
The oppressions of colonialism and conquest brought the Messiah exactly where he was meant to be, the place prophesied eight hundred years before his birth by the Prophet Micah.
And he was already redeeming all things. The shame of unwed motherhood; the powerlessness of poverty.
He was born among animals in a barn, animals enjoying the sweetness of life, animals he created, animals precious to him.
For he created all things, and in him all things hold together
Including stars in the sky, of which a new one heralded his birth
Drawing astronomers to him.
And drawing him to the attention of an angry King
As angelic song drew shepherds to him.
An Emperor, a King, scholars, shepherds, angels, animals, stars, an unwed mother
All things in heaven and earth connected
By a homeless baby
The still point on which the world still turns. The powerful centre. The only true power.
The One who makes connections. * * *
And there is no end to the wisdom, the crystal glints of the Message that birth brings.
To me, today, it says, “Fear not, trust me, I will make a way.” The baby lay gentle in the barn
And God arranges for new stars, angelic song, wise visitors with needed finances for his sustenance in the swiftly-coming exile, shepherds to underline the anointing and reassure his parents. “Trust me in your dilemmas,” the baby still says, “I will make a way. I will show it to you.” Happy Christmas everyone.  https://anitamathias.com/2019/12/24/trust-a-message-of-christmas/ #christmas #gemalderieberlin #trust #godwillmakeaway
Look, I’ve designed a journal. It’s an omnibus Look, I’ve designed a journal. It’s an omnibus Gratitude journal, habit tracker, food and exercise journal, bullet journal, with time sheets, goal sheets and a Planner. Everything you’d like to track.  Here’s a post about it with ISBNs https://anitamathias.com/2019/12/23/life-changing-journalling/. Check it out. I hope you and your kids like it!
Load More… Follow on Instagram

© 2020 Dreaming Beneath the Spires · All Rights Reserved. · Cookie Policy · Privacy Policy

»
«