Non Fiction Memoir: What Prayer Is At A Tender Age Of Five

Non Fiction Memoir

I attempted what prayer was at a tender age of five. Mom had set a scrumptious supper out for us to eat that pulled my attention away from the distraction of the outside window. I had been looking at the scene on our faded chipping wooden porch where kittens of various sizes and colors were playfully engaging in fights. She pulled my attention away from the to ask me something foreign.

“Would you like to bless this food, Lydia?”

Glancing back at my mother, father and little sister, I stared at them for a long moment with a raised eyebrow. But then remembering the prayer I’d heard others say at my kindergarten I nodded.

Clasping my hands together mimicking the pictures I’ve seen related to prayer in my old school recalled the words always prayed over out snacks. “Deeear Jesush thank you for this mood. Please blesh it to our bowdies and help the little children come to you.”

Quickly taking their attention away from my prayer. Although mom complimented me for my pretty prayer. My eyes, on the other hand, were filled with wonder and marveled at what I’d accomplished through the prayer. In the past, I’d seen adults pray and other children as well. I’d followed their guidelines for the most part. The reward left me in marvel.

I wished to do it again. So every chance I got I started to volunteer for prayer. My little sister Whitney was unwilling to pray. She found it not as appealing as I to ask for blessings over our meal.

Many people would compliment my prayer and coo over what they thought was an adorable way to say grace. I preened over the attention it afforded me and enjoyed saying the prayer.

It was frivolous task yet even so I wished to have a stronger connection to it. I just wanted to understand prayer. You could say I was extremely curious.