Praying Out Loud

A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from a faculty member whom I've known for a long time.  She was worried about a student--we were all worried about him.  He was homeless, but it took a few weeks before his mental instability became undeniable.

Those of us in the field of education can tell you that we all have many students who are unstable, but many of those mental instabilities are manageable.  This student's instability manifest itself through hostility and cursing and storming out of the classroom, leaving everyone anxious and worried about the threat of escalating violence.

After the phone call from the faculty member, I felt even more fretful than I had been feeling.  The phone call came later in the evening, which meant I had trouble sleeping.  As I lay in bed with multiple nightmare scenarios competing for space in my head, I decided to pray.

Praying silently didn't help--my brain just raced back to the threat of violence.  I decided to pray out loud, softly, but out loud.

Immediately, my mind quieted.  I kept praying, expanding the circle of prayers out from the student, to his classmates, and the teacher, and all teachers at my school, and then, all teachers.  I prayed out loud in this way for about five minutes, and then I ended the prayer this way:  "You know all we need even before we realize our needs or find the language to articulate our deepest yearnings. I ask your help in addressing all these needs.  Amen."

And then I drifted off to sleep.  The student decided to withdraw two days later.  While I wish we could have helped him back to a life that would keep him safe, we don't have the kinds of resources that larger schools have:  a psychiatric team, housing, regular meals.  He needs those things before he can be successful as a student.

Do I think that my prayers delivered that outcome?  Not necessarily.  That's not the point of this post.  I wanted to remember how much more effectively I prayed when I spoke the words.  By effective, I mean that I offered a complete prayer, rather than drifting off to sleep or getting distracted.

It also took me back to the pleasanter parts of childhood, the way I often ended my day back then.  A bit of reading, a bit of praying out loud.  I felt the friendly presence of my ancestors.  I felt held in a practice much more ancient than myself.