You've read that I became a habitual faker when it came to davening, to the point where I didn't even think twice about whether or not to do it or say I did. But one day it all became too much. When my mother called me to go daven, for the tenth time that day, I spoke the words I'd been ashamed to utter for the last five years: "I don't know how." They almost didn't want to come out of my mouth, which was just fine because she wasn't expecting to hear them anyway.
I did a little crying and felt thoroughly pathetic. Then I let her take me by the hand and show me exactly what to do. It was ridiculously simple. It was also written plainly in the Artscroll siddur I'd gotten for my bas mitzvah, so the beautiful leather book went into temporary retirement.
It sounds cliche, but a load rolled off my heart that day. I felt sheepish and embarrassed, but it was worth it. It was even worth becoming, all over again, the very slowest davener -- this time for real.
3 comments:
wow. i was waiting for you to post a "happily ever after" to the davening posts. i'm really glad that it worked out...
i wish praying wasn't so difficult.
That was very brave of you. Really, I don't know how you had the courage. How old were you at the time?
Glad to see that to achieved it. For many of us davening is a struggle and does not come easy. Everyone has difficulties in different areas.
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