Think About It

The older I get the less I remember about my childhood.   I guess a better way to put that might be the older I get the less I accurately remember about my childhood.   As I navigate through middle age I look back fondly on when and where I grew up.   I hope that some of it is true, but I fear that much of it is nostalgia.   One of the things that I do recall about my childhood is that we ended each day with a bedtime prayer.   I don’t recall any ritual childhood prayers that began with “Now I lay me down to sleep ...”, but I do remember that it was important to say our bedtime prayers.   I don’t really ever recall being too afraid of the dark or worrying that there were monsters in the closet, but I do know that learning to say a prayer at bedtime was a fitting way to end the day.   Whether it was led by my parents, offered by one of my siblings or just me speaking to God in the quietness of the darkness, prayer was common. I am not sure what prompted me to recall this part of my l