Why I can't pray

So here's a thing I'll admit into the void of nonexistent readership. I don't pray.

I mean I do, but not really, and not well.

At bedtime with the kids I dutifully recite "I see the moon." At dinner we say grace. Now and again I'll toss up a "please God give us health."

But other than times of tragedy, that's it. That's all I got.

When my father-in-law died recently, I said the Divine Mercy Chaplet at his bedside, and I prayed with my wife that God comfort her and her dad and family etc., but that was serious shit.

When shit gets serious, I always reach for God.

When it's 5 p.m on a random Thursday, I find prayer impossible.

I titled this post "Why I can't pray" but if I'm being honest I don't know why I can't. I find prayer boring, dry, and when things aren't desperate, it feels futile. I know in my mind that prayer is none of those things, but even getting through an Our Father feels like a struggle these days.

I could blame the sex abuse crisis, working for the church for the last few years, or any number of things, but I know it's just on me.

Sometimes I feel like my whole life is a series of me knowing what is good for me, and deliberately choosing the opposite. If I eat right and exercise, I'll be fit. (No joke, I've had two Rice Krispy Treats and a Nutty Bar today). If I pray and live an upright life I'll be more fulfilled.... and yet it's Sin City over here.

Maybe this blog is a prayer. I know since it's largely inactive no one reads it, so who am I writing this for?

Lord, teach me to pray once again.