Every time anyone got in trouble at my grammy's house, she reacted the same exact way: She herded everybody into the breakfast room and made us sit at the table as she stripped it of her beautiful lace tablecloth. We were obliged to fold our arms on the table and rest our head on them, and in unison recite this prayer for whatever length of time suited her. We HATED it. I regularly cried tears of self-pity, and drooled on the beautiful mahogany table top.
But now I love it, and when I have a bad day, I put my head on my desk (or the steering wheel of my car since I'm usually in traffic), and quietly recall its simple wisdom. I thank her and bless her all the time for this loving "punishment."
Teach me, my Lord, to be sweet and gentle in all the events of life: in disappointments, in the thoughtlessness of others, in the insincerity of those I trusted, in the unfaithfulness of those on whom I relied.
Let me put myself aside, to think of the happiness of others, to hide my little pains and heartaches, so that I may be the only one to suffer from them.
Teach me to profit by the suffering that comes across my path Let me so use it that it may mellow me, not harden or embitter me; that it may make me patient, not irritable; that it may make me broad in my forgiveness, not narrow, haughty, and overbearing.
May no one be less good for having come within my influence, no one less pure, less true, less kind, less noble for having been a fellow-traveler in our journey towards eternal life. As I go my rounds from one distraction to another, let me whisper from time to time a word of love to Thee. May my life be lived in the supernatural, full of power for good, and strong in its purpose of sanctity.