“Ever ancient, ever new” is a phrase St. Augustine used to describe God in his spiritual autobiography Confessions, and it’s a description that comes to my mind when I return to certain favorite prayers — The Serenity Prayer, St. Francis’s Prayer for Peace, and the Suscipe — at different times and circumstances in my life.
Although these prayers were written many years ago, very far from where I currently live, the ideas they express still apply directly to my particular troubles and triumphs as a woman making her way through the 21st century. These prayers truly are ever ancient, ever new.
Most recently, these prayers have guided me in my journey as a parent. Their original forms do the trick, but when I play with the words and fit them specifically to my ongoing parenting struggles — to stay patient, to relax, to refrain from micromanaging, to keep calm — they hit home in a special kind of way. And so that’s what I do now. When I find myself grasping for serenity, devoid of peace, and struggling to let go, I get specific.
Here are a few examples. Perhaps they’ll resonate with your own experiences as a parent, and maybe they’ll inspire you to take pen to paper and craft your own attempts at making the ever ancient new again.
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A Serenity Prayer for Parents
God, grant me the serenity to accept my daughter’s hair and fashion choices. I truly hate that garish unicorn headband, but seeing as it’s a kindergartner’s birthday at Rainbow Gymnastics and the only things hurt by her selection are my eyes and my pride, I should probably let it go, just like the headband’s fraying decorations.
On the other hand, it’s important for my daughter to know that her behavior impacts other people, and part of my job is to help shape her into a considerate, respectful, self-aware human being. So when we’re at the grocery store and she repeatedly whines for balloons, give me the courage to march us out of there. And when we’re at home and things get too loud, give me the wherewithal to declare, “Take it to the basement.”
(Actually, God, while you’re at it, could you give me the patience to say it, not yell it?)
I guess what I’m trying to say, God, is that I need help knowing when to let things go and when to draw a line. It’s surprisingly hard for me to discern the difference between power struggles and appropriate discipline. Give me wisdom, God. Guide me as I walk this tightrope.
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Prayer for Peace of Mind
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there are squabbles, let me teach problem solving;
Where there is puke, let me refrain from gagging;
Where there’s another lost lunch box, let me resist guilt-tripping;
Where there’s dawdling, let me curb my nagging;
Where there is fear of the dark, let me comfort and assure (and tuck-in for the umpteenth time even as I watch my precious hour of alone time slip away);
Where there is whining, let me not lose my s***.
O divine Mother, grant that I may not so much seek
To control as to nurture,
To speak as to listen,
To desire order as to create a playful home.
For it is in loving that my children learn to love,
It is in letting go that I begin to trust
And it is in sacrificing that I become free.
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“Help Me Not be a Helicopter Parent” Suscipe
Take, Lord, and receive my beautiful children,
Their gifts, their struggles,
Everything that they are,
Even though I feel like they belong to me and I so badly want to keep them to myself, protect them from all the potential hurts, and never let them walk down the alleyway alone despite the fact that they know to watch out for cars and I can see them the whole time from the kitchen window.
You have given my children to me,
The greatest blessing of my life,
My heart outside my body,
But they are not mine.
They are their own,
And they are yours.
Do with them what you will, even if it involves them majoring in acting, or becoming a vegan, or dating a punk named Axel.
Help me not get in the way
Of them becoming the fullest version of themselves.
Give me only the grace to remember that they are not an extension of me,
And your love to sustain me as I pour myself into nourishing what I will eventually give away.
That is enough for me.
