About a month or so ago I was tying my shoes in the morning to get ready for work and the shoe string broke. As I held the broken piece in my hand I was reminded of Kevin’s prayer rope that he’d made out of a boot string all those years ago. I ended up putting it in my pocket instead of throwing it away and went about my day.
Later when I was home from work the association grew stronger in my head and then in my heart, so I started tying knots into it. It was long enough to make seven knots in a row with little tails on either end. A traditional prayer rope is circular and typically includes 33 or 100 knots, but this one would have to do.
And I couldn’t stop looking at it and moving it around in my hand. I ended up snipping off the excess part on one end and dabbling some Elmer’s glue to keep it from unknotting which made it harder than the other knots when it dried. Starting at the knot below it I would say the Jesus Prayer* on each knot, down and back.
This ended up being a cycle of 12 and then the last hardened knot became my “Rejoice…” knot to start the cycle again. In less than a week I’d lost it which made me sad. I made another one with 7 knots with some old Army 550 cord I had from back in the day but I quickly lost that one too. It was very frustrating.
After a week or two I was getting out of my car in our garage and noticed something on the concrete that turned out to be that original prayer rope smashed flat by my wife’s van’s tires. I picked it up and brushed it off and worked on the knots to unflatten them. I promised myself I would be more diligent this time.
But after a few days I once again lost it. It too easily comes out of my pocket when I pull other things out, like my keys. It is small, narrow, and brown which doesn’t help. So, at least two more weeks go by and this time I assume I’ve lost it for good. So silly, anyway, right? I think maybe God is telling me not to bother.
Then this morning I’m thinking about it again as I pull into the parking garage at work. It hits me that I don’t necessarily need a prayer rope to say the Jesus Prayer. I get out of my car and walk past several cars headed for the stairwell. As I round a corner I start to say the Jesus Prayer and glance down at the ground.
At my feet is the little brown prayer rope once again smashed flat by the tires of cars coming and going from the parking garage and I let out a kind of bewildered laugh. What are the chances? I picked it up and started squeezing the knots once again to unflatten them, promising myself to do better this time, again.
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*The Jesus Prayer is a meditative practice in the Orthodox Church typically done with the assistance of a prayer rope.
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