Sometime during my freshman year, I picked up a bizzare habit: I went to morning prayer. I don't remember why I started going, and I don't know how I kept it up, but morning prayer became one of the most profound experiences I had as a Vassar student.
Every weekday, members of the VXF (Vassar Christian Fellowship) would gather at 8 a.m. in the Rose Parlor, a lovely old room in Main Building at the center of campus. (This airbrushed photo I found online really doesn't do its delightful shabbiness justice.) Then we would pray together for a half hour and eat breakfast before dispersing for our morning classes. 
Sometimes, we would begin the prayer time by reading a psalm or proverb: we got through entire books of the Bible. Other times, someone would ask to pray for something in particular: a sick friend, a conflict in another country, a campus event.
On Fridays we invited Vassar faculty and staff to join us and our meager number would grow by two or three. Cleaning staff came into the parlor sometimes, vacuuming the carpet. We were there at the same time Vassar administrative staff came to work and I wonder if those people knew what we were doing, every single morning, slouched silently on those couches. While the idea was to pray out loud with each other, it felt easiest to pray silently that early in the morning because a lapse into sleep wouldn't be as noticeable.
For me, weekday mornings usually entailed waking up at 7:55 and stomping into the parlor at 8:10 (if I didn't sleep through it completely) where 4 or 5 of my friends would be praying quietly or journaling. Often I would sit and close my eyes, feigning meditation while I tried to nap. Writing prayers down in my journal helped wake me up, but look at what I wrote those mornings and you will see coffee cups and fried eggs and cinnamon rolls doodled in the margins. Prayers like "Dear God, I'm so tired. Amen," abounded. Sometimes I wrote to-do lists. I qualified them as prayer by prefacing them with "God, give me strength to do the following today:"
Every week at the VXF's large group meetings, we would announce it: "Come to morning prayer at 8 a.m. in the Rose Parlor!" Every week it was noted and dismissed, and it was a rare day someone new showed up to pray. It wasn't convenient: what college student that stays up until 2 every night doing work wants to wake up that early every single day?
Morning prayer was not impressive. It didn't feel spiritual or religious or lofty or saintly or powerful or enlightening. There weren't many of us at the VXF's most underrated activity (aside from tabling, amiright, team? [you know who you are]).
We did it every day though.
Every day for four years, we hauled our sleepy selves to the Rose Parlor to start the day with God. Every day we shuffled through the weather. Despite stress and sleep and sickness we came. Despite (or because of?) our doubts and hang-ups and conflict we came. Every day, as best we could, we sat together, not always prayerfully or piously, but faithfully. It may not have looked powerful, but as the mornings accumulated, it became one of the most astounding things we were involved in at Vassar, simply because we were there. We showed up. (Almost) every day.
I did the math: if we went to morning prayer every weekday we were at school, we would have gone approximately 575 times. When you pray with someone 575 or so times, you get close, and indeed, prayer and breakfast together was how I grew close to so many of my now-dearest friends.
When it was midterm time and we studied early into the morning and I planned to sleep in the next day to give myself a break, my friend Nora would always say, "I will be at the crack. I wouldn't miss it." That's what we tastefully nicknamed morning prayer. The Crack. As in, the Crack of Dawn. Here's a picture of dawn to break up the text and keep you reading (thanks, Google!):
Here's the part of morning prayer I miss most, the part that will stay with me for years and years:
Every day at 8:30, when morning prayer was over, someone would gurgle, "Our Father…"
…Thus beginning the most tender and powerful words I know. Every day we ended by saying the Lord's Prayer. It's called the Lord's Prayer because it was Jesus himself who prayed it first. He said, "When you pray, pray like this," and then he said it (Matthew 6:9-13).
I don't even know how many times I'd said that prayer in my 18 years before coming to Vassar. But saying it 500 times with my friends every day in the Rose Parlor for four years transformed it, etching its strong, confident words into my mind. We would wake our voices up and say:
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom, thy will be done,
On Earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses/sins/debts, as we forgive our debtors/those who trespass/sin against us… (We never decided on one word to stick with, so this portion was always a wreck, especially since some of us would switch up our word choice daily)
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
Whenever I say the Lord's Prayer, I think of the people I said it with: Sarah, Tian An, Nora, Christie, Catherine, Joe, JR, Robyn, Jo, Liz, Dan, Jerry, Steve, Sam, and others. I love that people all over the world and all over time have said these words Jesus said first, uniting us with him and each other.
(The core group of class of '13 participants after our last morning together: me, Nora, Christie, Catherine, and Sarah)
So, how can I relate this to the World Race?
First of all, my hope for this year is that as we blow in and out of countries, we would be united by a commitment to the words and actions Jesus did first: praying simply and confidently to God with the words he gave us, taking care of people that seem beyond reach or undeserving, and not being troubled by the discomfort of a mobile lifestyle.
Second, my hope is that our teams would be marked by commitment to each other beyond the point of convenience. Just as we'll be moving around an astounding amount, we will be standing still an astounding amount, in the sense that we will be living with the same people for months on end. Living in community is incredible, and worth fighting for, but like morning prayer, it's not always exciting or interesting or easy.
Finally, my hope is that you, friends, family, and supporters, would not be discouraged when your work for God seems tedious or feeble.
1 Corinthians 15:58 says "Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain." If you think what you do is of no consequence, think again. Or just wait and see. God takes well-worn customs that see good and bad days and shows us that he values our presence over our performance. (I think that's a good thing to remember this time of year, with all the parties and presents.)
Here's an example: many of you have donated money to me. I want you to know that your generosity is making this dream a reality. I love that you have given, but more than that, I love that you are still here.
Finally, Vassar friends, if you're reading this, I hope you're still meeting at the crack, putting the a.m. in amen, or doing some sort of regular prayer meeting. That school's a tough place, but you're taken care of. Keep on keepin' on!
