There are so many situations when finding the answer to a problem is so difficult that an answer may be out of reach.  In this situation, all I feel I can do is just pray. Sometimes, well, a lot of times, I have felt unequal to the task that lies before me.  This is perhaps the time my prayers are most pathetic. And that is when I need to pray the most.

Now there are many kinds of prayer.  There are written prayers, sometimes memorized, and prayers straight from the heart.  There are so many ways to pray, and yet, people will often pray in a way they have been taught as a child.  

But prayer, is a communication with God or a higher power.  Since all people are born into an environment that is unique to their family, prayer can differ greatly.  But praying is an act of faith. And, faith is important.

People all over the world have expressed themselves through the religions and spiritual traditions that have existed in time thus far.  So too, the ways in which all of us pray will most likely be attached to a culture as well. I believe that prayer is inherently good. The way in which individuals use prayer may not be.  The intention of the one who is praying determines whether it is a good thing. To me, true prayer is positive, loving, intention.

Every time I hear someone pray with loving intention, it affects me in a powerful way.  This is what is needed to bring peace with our fellow human beings throughout the world.  When I see so much discord and turmoil, when there are people suffering in so many countless ways, I find that the only thing that I can do, in that moment, is “just pray.”  Just pray.

I have always felt that writing letters was a wondrous thing.  When I was young, I always enjoyed getting mail, as most kids do.  And I enjoyed it so much that I was happy to write back. The best thing about writing letters is that hopefully you will receive one in return.  And the ingredients that make it so pleasurable are patience and anticipation.

Everytime I wrote a letter, put it in an envelope, stamped it and mailed it, a process began.  I might receive a speedy reply, or have to endure a long wait. Regardless, the anticipation would kick in immediately and make it a lesson in patience.  Patience can only really be understood by practicing it.  Patience does not happen by accident

Waiting for a letter when I was a kid actually forced patience upon me.  And I am very glad I had that experience. One can never know the same kind of joy and appreciation if something you want comes easily.  Anticipation is what makes that special joy possible.

When I was in high school, I had a pen pal from England who was the best correspondent I had ever had.  I met him in a park in London the summer before school started. He wrote long letters, answering all my questions and telling me all about his life.  I was absolutely over the moon when I saw his letter in my mailbox. I would open it and read it slow the first time. I wanted to prolong my excitement.  Then I would read it again and again. And finally, I would write back as soon as I could, so I would be able to mail it right away. Then, the anticipation would be reset and the practice of patience would begin again.

Even though we were a continent away from each other, we both wrote back immediately and the letters would each take 10 days to 2 weeks to go back and forth, sometimes longer.  One time, a letter I sent did not receive a reply for almost 2 months. I had no idea what had happened. Did it get lost? Did he get the letter and if he did, did he write back?  Did his return letter get lost? When I finally got his reply, it began with a long apology for something that he could not have controlled. There had been a mail strike and that was the cause of the long delay.  I was so relieved and happy and excited all at once. We continued to write even after I had gotten married and had kids.

We lost contact somehow, and after unsuccessfully trying to find him through his mother’s address, I thought that something had happened to him.  And then, 38 years later, he found me on Facebook. We began to email and catch up in a more timely manner. But still, we wrote. And the joy of letter writing started again.  This time it was immediately sent and yet the anticipation remained, albeit in a shorter time frame.

I guess the point I am trying to convey, is that letter writing is more than just a conversation.  It is taking the time and care to prepare a gift of oneself to another person that they can keep. And the recipient of this gift can see the ink on the page, the stamp on the outside, the thoughts conveyed, all etched in time as a memory to be savored again sometime in the future.  When that happens, one can be transported back in time where those moments can be experienced once again. Only a letter can do this. And isn’t that awesome?

If “leaving one’s mark” means to have an effect on something, I want to do it like my dad did.  He had a way of affecting people and places throughout his life. The effect he had on me, even since his passing almost 30 years ago, has stayed within me in so many ways.

He was a very positive person and tended to look on the bright side of things.  He wasn’t a Pollyanna, as I often am, but just seemed to always see the glass as half full.  He always saw possibilities where I often did not.

Anyway, years later, after he was gone, my first grandchild was born.  Named after me, she was our treasure and we felt happiness just to have her in our lives.  She was a sweet-tempered, loving little person and we would always show her pictures of our family in frames all over the house.  My dad was in many of them. When she would see him, she would get a look across her face that seemed to be like recognition. It was as if she knew him.  It left an impression on me and I wondered about it a lot.

My father was a masonry and general contractor and built buildings in our community.  He would usually do one large project a year along with smaller jobs, enough to keep his permanent employees busy, year-round.  

One summer, there were no large projects to be bid on and he was doing small jobs.  He started pouring sidewalks that year, all over our city. I think it must have started with a job or two, but then it blossomed into new sidewalk after sidewalk, all over our town.  

At each end of a new sidewalk, he would press his “stamp” into the wet concrete.  It was the name of his company with our surname in it. When people saw the work he had done, they could contact him, and ask him to do their sidewalk as well.  That summer and several other summers I would walk to the public high school and take classes. All along the route, I would see his stamp. I would take different routes and count them along the way.  There were a lot of them!

When my grand-daughter was about 4 years old, we would walk in the neighborhood where I grew up.  One day I pointed out the sidewalk stamp and we decided to count them along the way. As we were walking, she stopped me and said, “Grandma, I know why great-grandpa put his stamp on the sidewalk.”  “Really?” I asked. And she looked up at me and said, “It was so that I would find them.”  I looked into her sweet little face and said that she must be right.  And and as we walked on, I thought to myself, “He definitely left his mark.”  

What will I leave behind?  After I am gone, what will my descendants have to remember me by?Will it be things of mine that will be inherited?  Or will memories and feelings of love be the reasons I am remembered?  I hope it is the latter. Things can get old, fall into disrepair and even be something to get rid of immediately, instead of being kept.  They can be a burden or a nuisance.  

I hope that it will be memories of the things we did together and the way we felt (and still feel) about each other.  Memories of laughter, especially, the laughter, and the fun we had won’t be forgotten, will it? The hard times and the solving of problems that showed us what we were made of, stay with us all of our lives, don’t they?  By going through difficulties and coming out of them together, character is built and will hopefully sustain the next generation as they go on with their lives. That is what I would like to leave behind.

Will I be remembered as a person who did my best to give and love and care for others?  Or will I be remembered for my many mistakes in judgement and thoughtlessness? Will I be be remembered as someone who tried to do the right thing and apologized when I did wrong?

We can all ask ourselves the questions that I have just asked myself.  Do you think about these things in the way I do? Or am I thinking too much about me?

As I ponder about all of these things, is it an examination of conscience?  Is it a reckoning of the life I have spent and am in the process of spending the rest of my years here on earth?  Whatever it is, I hope this action of writing it all down will give me a template for the life I have yet to live.  Then maybe I will become better able to leave behind what matters the most to all my loved ones. For then, I will trust that my Creator will forgive me my sins, so that I may someday rest in God’s peace.

I have always admired people who have great patience for other people.  I try to be patient, but sometimes, when I am feeling impatient, I will hold a negative reaction back. Then later, inappropriately, I will just burst with annoyance if I have not expressed my irritation in a positive way. 

In general, I think that I have patience with many situations.  But, it’s when I hold on to negative feelings, and am not able to come to terms with it inside my mind, that I have a problem.  I never have problems being patient with children, until they get to be teenagers. But that only lasts for a short time. And I have great patience when I am with the elderly.  I have a lot of affection for those who have lived most of their lives already, Maybe that’s because I had wonderful grandparents who loved me deeply, and who lived close by when I was growing up.

They say that patience is a virtue.  I definitely agree. And if one practices, one can become more patient.  It always helps to try and imagine what is happening in another person’s life, before losing one’s patience.  That’s easier said than done. But I try. And as I become older it is somewhat easier to do.

Maybe it would be a good idea to gather people who want to be more patient and form a group.  It would be a support group in a way. The group could get a list together of the situations they have trouble with, and brainstorm.  Discussion could begin, and with constructive criticism, perhaps they could help a person deal with an issue, one at a time. The group, collectively,  could begin to discuss possible ways of thinking about that specific situation. By asking questions and making suggestions, the group might be able to narrow down why it causes someone to lose their patience.  Once that is discovered, perhaps a change in perspective on the part of that person could be discovered. 

Of course, none of this would be easy.  Even the organization of the group would be a challenge.  It’s just an idea. And ideas can lead to a change of heart.  Changing one’s mind comes first but changing one’s heart is the way to become more patient.  Only good can come from having an open heart. And I believe an open heart is the best way to find patience.