The only prayer life I know is my own. The only marriage I know is my own. The only woman I know well is myself.
Out in "the real world" I can imagine prayer lives, marriages, and womanness that are models of order and decorum. Priests who pray their Office at the same time each day, with a regularity and a serenity that far eclipses my disorderly fits and starts. Sisters whose Hour of Adoration is like clockwork, never forgotten, never neglected, never half-hearted, an Hour that daily grounds them beautifully to Christ and his mother and the Father and the whole family/communion of saints.
Surely in "the real world" nobody is as scatter-shot as I in my approach to God, so careless, so mercurial, so untidy in body/mind/spirit, so contemptible in my daily faithlessness and selfishness. "I, the Worst of All."
But the real world is right here. And my life and that of my children and husband, friends and co-workers, is as Real as it gets.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of life. I am sorry for my sins. I am grateful for your mercy. The words cannot express the profound truth of both my sorrow and my gratitude. I rejoice in You, my God. Christ with me, Christ around me, Christ healing me. Deo gratias, Deo gratias, Deo gratias!