Devotion (n): love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person, activity, or cause. Prayers or religious observances.
I started calling James’ favorite lovey1 Lieutenant Dan because he “ain’t got no legs”, thanks to Scout who chewed them off. Legs or no legs, James loves Lieutenant Dan with a depth of devotion as inspiring as it is exhausting. Dan goes where he goes and when he realizes at bedtime that Dan is not in his crib, he will howl as if in physical pain until Dan is found. It takes many deep breaths and the grace of God to keep me from losing it2 as we search high and low for Dan. Never mind that there are half a dozen more lovies in his crib. They’re not Lieutenant Dan. Having exhausted our search of the first floor, I ask “Is Dan in the basement, James?”. “Yes.” He says, with an exaggerated nod. This would have been useful to know 10 minutes ago, but with more deep breaths and more grace we make our way slowly down the steps as James calls out “DAAAANNN! WHERE ARE YOU?” which sounds more like a series of vowels “Wehh ahh ewe?”. After what feels like hours but is probably 3 minutes, I find Dan in a miniature wagon and hold him up for James to see. He gasps in relief and squeals Dan’s name, clutching him to his cheek.
In his book How To Stay Married, Harrison Scott Key says “Maybe that’s all prayer is: wanting to pray and hoping God sees you wanting.” I don’t know much about devotion; to God, to a cause, to another person. It’s hard to understand what I can’t hold in my hands and see with my own eyes. If devotion is prayer, my prayers are not pretty and they’re often selfish. They are ragged and distracted and uninspired, but I pray anyway and hope God sees me wanting.
On a Wednesday, I send my friend Blythe a message telling her we won’t be at our parish’s picnic dinner and outdoor Eucharistic adoration3. We will be at the county fair’s monster truck night. I feel no small amount of guilt about this because everyone knows good Catholics don’t choose monster trucks over Jesus. I tell her “I want to love Jesus the way James loves monster trucks.”
Mary Oliver said “attention is the beginning of devotion” and lately I’ve been wondering to what I’m devoted. Where does my mind wander when it runs like a dog off leash in a wide open field? What do I love beyond reason? Am I listening to the pulse of my life underneath all the living? Most nights I write down three glimpses, capturing moments from the day in as much detail as I can muster before my hand cramps and my eyes get heavy, a practice in attention.
James and I are walking on a favorite section of bike path while Lucy’s at camp. He would rather be eating fruit snacks and playing Ice Cream Shop4 at my family’s furniture store, and he’s made sure I know it by whining for the last 45 minutes. When we enter a wooded section of the path he shrieks “TUNNEL!” in delight. The trees have grown up and over the path toward the sun and each other, creating a tunnel of shade, a merciful respite from the August sun.
Jesuit priest and psychotherapist Anthony DeMello wrote “Behold the One beholding you and smiling.” Behold the One who sees you chewed up and worn out, who calls you by name and clutches you to His very own cheek, devoted.
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For those of you wondering what a lovey is
For the non-Catholics here, Eucharistic adoration is that thing where it looks like we’re just staring at a cracker in a fancy frame, but it’s actually Jesus.
Any flat surface—a bench, a storage trunk, a table, the seat of a barstool—can be an imaginary pop up ice cream stand, of which he is the proprietor and no, there are no freebies for family and friends. Not even for his mother.
#3 😂 And I love that Anthony DeMello quote!!