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Celtic Christians lived an intertwined life of work and prayer, knitting the two together in such a way that the work of the day became the prayer of life.

In her book, The Celtic Way of Prayer, Esther De Waal explains the Celtic practice of work and prayer. “… there was no separation of praying and living; praying and working flow into each other, so that life is to be punctuated by prayer, become prayer.”

Morning hygiene happened slowly and in the name of the Trinity as each palmful of water was splashed upon the face.

The palmful of the God of Life,
The palmful of the Christ of Love,
The palmful of the Spirit of Peace,
  Triune
  Of grace.
 

The task of making the bed became a time of prayer as seen in this Irish prayer, one of many collected in 1906 by Douglas Hyde.

I make this bed
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit
In the name of the night we were conceived,
In the name of the night we were born,
In the name of the day we were baptized,
In the name of each night, each day,
Each angel that is in the heavens.
 

Alistair MacLean recorded this prayer in Hebridean Altars for days when our work load seems overwhelming or dull.

Even though the day be laden
and my task dreary
and my strength small,
a song keeps singing
in my heart.
For I know that I am Thine.
I am part of Thee.
Thou art kin to me,
and all my times
are in Thy hand.
 

And finally, this prayer from Hebridean Altars:

Seven times a day, as I work upon this hungry farm, I say to Thee, “Lord, why am I here? What is there here to stir my gifts to growth? What great things can I do for others—I who am captive to this dreary toil?” And seven times a day Thou answerest, “I cannot do without thee. Once did My Son live thy life, and by His faithfulness did show My mind, My kindness, and My truth to men. But now He is come to My side, and thou must take His place.”
 

What comes out of your heart and mouth as you work your way through your day?

In Him Together, Susan Gaddis

Three Musicians by Picasso

A story is told of Pablo Picasso riding on a train when a man approached him and asked him why, as a famous painter, he did not paint people “the way they really are.” Picasso asked the man what he meant by that expression.

The man opened his wallet and took out a snapshot of his wife, saying, “That’s my wife.”

Picasso responded, “Isn’t she rather small and flat?”

Most of us live and work with flat people and fail to realize that our limited perception misses the realms of possibility and wonder hidden within. Seeing people the way they really are is impossible, but we can see them as more than flat.

Usually we form a quick opinion of a person gleaned from a few interactions with him or her. That information is then filtered through what others have told us about the individual. As time goes on, we view this person through the stories we ingrain within—stories based on what we continue to hear and experience of his or her actions and life events.

Some of these stories are good, and some are not, but all stories are limited, since we cannot know a person’s thoughts, motives, hopes, dreams, or the details of the past that have shaped his personality.

Without realizing it, we trap ourselves into certain patterns and ways of thinking concerning the people around us. We see only what we are inclined to see derived from our interpretation of the stories we’ve collected about them in our mental file cabinet.

Finding the Holy in the daily often means looking at people through new glasses—seeing the wonder that God has placed within them, finding the unexpected sparkle behind their story, and assuming the best about them.

Are the people around you flat? Are there aspects to their stories you are missing? How can you change the way you interpret these people?

In Him together, Susan Gaddis

Is your work killing your relationships? Sometimes our values revolve around our business more than our community, yet the most important things in life can’t be bought, bargained for, or traded. Therefore, the reason we work should be to give value and meaning to the relationships we treasure.

In his book, The Reflective Life, Ken Gire retells a story from The Gospel of the Redman of an old Indian selling twenty strings of onions in the ancient market of Mexico City.

An American from Chicago came up and asked the Indian how much it would cost to buy a string of onions. The Indian replied that it would cost ten cents. The American wondered how much two strings would cost and twenty cents was the Indian’s reply. Three strings would cost thirty cents. The American then asked the price for all twenty strings to which the Indian stated that he wouldn’t sell all twenty strings.

“Why not?” said the American. “Aren’t you here to sell your onions?”

“No,” replied the Indian. “I am here to live my life. I love this market place. I love the crowds and the red serapes. I love the sunlight and the waving palmettos. I love to have Pedro and Luis come by and say: ‘Buenos dias’ . . . and talk about the babies and the crops. I love to see my friends. That is my life. For that I sit here all day and sell my twenty strings of onions. But if I sell all my onions to one customer, then is my day ended. I have lost my life that I love—and that I will not do.”

How about you? Are you living your life in such a way that relationships are valued above business? Does your work give meaning to the relationships you treasure?

In Him together, Susan Gaddis

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