In the second of our series on how busy people fit prayer into their lives a Catholic priest with a country parish and four small children explores the demands of Office life.

I must confess that I feel a fraud writing anything at all about busyness and prayer. On one hand because, compared with the other contributors to this series, I suspect I’m not terribly busy; and certainly more prey than I should be to the dark spirits of procrastination and prevarication – eaters of afternoons. On another, because I’m no great shakes at prayer, either: I flinch mentally at those hagiographies detailing their sainted subjects’ vigils and ecstasies. I don’t mean to imply that I’m perpetually horizontal, or some prodigy of reprobation, devoid wholly of communion with the divine in prayer. I have four small children and a small but perfectly formed parish in the countryside, and the interaction of these two – usually mutually exclusive – realities keeps me as busy as anyone needs to be to feel that the motor is still running, from porridge in the early hours to bedtimes at the other end of the day. And, despite the combined efforts of idleness, the rumour of stampeding feet and the noonday demon, I do say my prayers.

Get Instant Access

Continue Reading

Register for free to read this article in full

REGISTER

Subscribe for unlimited access

SUBSCRIBE NOW

From just £37.50 quarterly

  Print copy of The Tablet delivered directly to your door.
  Complete access to all Tablet website content including all premium content.
  Access to the weekly digital copy of The Tablet.
  Full access to The Tablet’s archive – over 180 years of back issues.

Already a subscriber? Login