Statio: Latin, noun . . .
Wait, let me begin again, in English. And let’s take the scenic route.
Take that mystery B&B bedding—last week, on our anniversary. No, it wasn’t flannel or linen. Ditto T-shirty jersey. Not to mention slide-right-off-the-side satin.
I’d never felt anything like it: sleek, lightweight warmth, yet cool to the touch, deliciously crisp. An all-over caress.
Sometimes what passes through our fingertips or settles over our skin affects more than the body.
- “If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed,” a desperately ill woman said of Jesus (Matt. 9:21). And she was.
- Acts 9 recounts aprons and handkerchiefs touched by Paul, then draped over invalids. Result? Long-distance recovery.
- In ancient Joppa, Dorcas wove beautiful robes for widows—until her death. Peter prayed, and God brought her to life again (Acts 9:36-42). Imagine her new designs after glimpsing paradise!
In our times of industrial looms, stories like these offer a fresh twist on “material witness.”
Might there be a spiritual parallel to modern factory thread counts?
The number of threads per square inch indicates quality. Fibers closely woven in a “criss-cross, over-under pattern” known as “percale” create breathable lightness, surprisingly durable. Like the sheets at the B&B.
Like the qualities of a yielded life.
Which brings us to statio, an ancient monastic practice still lovingly observed today. Imagine a small devotional segue between activities: “the time between times,” as Sister Joan Chittister, O.S.B., says. “If I am present to a child before I dress her, then the dressing becomes an act of creation. If I am present to my spouse in the living room, then marriage becomes an act of divine communion. If I am present to the flower before I cut it, then life becomes precious.”
Statio prayer is a mesh we weave: invisible, real, often wordless.
Any given moment will do—time offered to God even as we receive it from God.
How? Well, pause invites repose. Eyes closed, I focus on deepening breath (rather than headlong thoughts). Then . . .
Criss-cross, over and under . . .
- I might add an audible sigh of surrender; receive an intake of grace
- Or I physicalize yielding: cross hands over heart, then extend top hand, palm down, cradle it with bottom hand, palm up
- A whisper works, too: “Here am I, great I AM.”
Disrupting momentum’s urgency, we can practice reset between one task and the next. The more often we pause, the closer our “threads of connection” align. We live more consciously.
Clearing the mind, even briefly, calms the soul, clothes us in peace.
Half a century ago, I wove Dreamer’s wedding shirt: cotton warp, twisted linen and silk strands, with raw wool feathered into select rows, as accents. Distinctive texture. Terrible snags! Fragile silk went full bedhead: knots, static, split ends—triggering my temper—stupid snarl! I wanted to hack everything off the loom.
Forget blessing my beloved.
Likewise, when a physical fever afflicts us, we fling off the sheets. Then, chilled, we scramble back into them knowing they’ll hold us; rewarm us; an all-over caress.
Can statio happen here, in the hard places—in that fractional moment before our next action? Perhaps it’s as basic as gratefulness we can do something, anything . . . or not . . . at peace either way.
Is this how we “criss-cross, over and under, percale” a day? What stops us from realigning with God’s presence before reaching outward?
Lord, you inhabit every fractional space,
the time between times,
betwixt words,
amid each inhale and exhale,
one foot’s lift and the other’s step . . .
Friends, will you join me? We could start small: a statio prayer before we rise, as we dress, after making the bed.
How else might you proceed . . . now, as the season turns?
“Listen to the tale the threads of your life have woven.” —Sarah Ban Breathnach
For more ideas on statio prayer, click here.
You might also enjoy this, from the archives.
Chittister, Joan. 1990. Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 176-178.
Photo by Alif Caesar Rizqi Pratama on Unsplash
My brother treated our parents to a stay at an upscale Florida resort decades ago. Members of the greatest generation, they had never slept on 400 count Egyptian cotton sheets. My mom raved about the feel of them for years!
Whenever I’ve found myself and hubby amongst celebs and poshness I often remember her exclamations of amazement.
How much more will we be amazed when we rest in our Eternal Home?
Katie, what a delightful story! For her to recall that singular pleasure, for decades(!)—surely, that’s joie de vivre at its best: as it was, in the moment; still delicious in memory.
And how knee bending, to extend fleeting delight to the eternal realm! Thank you for this picture of extravagant, buoyant gratitude.
Oh my, Laurie, as always you weave wonder with your words–literally. I paused at my desk while reading this and echoed an ‘amen!’ It seems the Holy Spirit has been reminding me of the same sort of idea–a minute pause when offered to God can reset us over and over again throughout the day.
Deep breaths, arms criss-crossed over our heart, palms offered to Him.
Thank you.
Hi friend, how marvelous that we’re on a similar path, seeking these fleeting “resets” throughout the day. Your practice strengthens my resolve: to keep on keeping on. Thank you!
“Sometimes what passes through our fingertips or settles over our skin affects more than the body.” What a beautiful line. And I love the scriptures you offer afterward as fascinating examples. The hope-stirring ones about healing. And such an intriguing thought about Dorcas – “Imagine her new designs after glimpsing paradise!” Love the way you think.
I appreciate your naming this Statio prayer for me and creatively unfolding what it may look like. It makes me think more intentionally about what is possible in those in-between moments. A moment’s retreat under the shadow of his wings while pumping gas, getting the mail, stirring my coffee . . .
Bethany, thank you for highlighting what you found thought-provoking and inspirational! I so appreciate it. And the phrase “think more intentionally about what is possible in those in-between moments.” I’m for sure borrowing your idea of statio time “while pumping gas.” Due to advice from a P.T. years ago, I formed the habit of alternatively standing on one foot and exercising the opposite foot and ankle while filling the tank. I’m going to enlarge on that “balance/stretch” with the simple reach of heart for fresh equilibrium with my Maker . . . Thank you!
I love your suggestions, Laurie, for offering to God the activities of the day, no matter how menial. I’ve jotted Post-It reminders to re-align with God’s presence as I begin my exercise routine, make the bed, make breakfast, do the dishes, etc. Weaving more worship into my day will surely mesh my soul tighter to Him–a delightful prospect.
Nancy, your words remind me of something I read this morning:
“Blessed are they that dwell in thy house; they will be still praising thee” (Ps. 84:4). A writer musing on this passage adds, “There is a realm in God of ‘still praising Him’ on another level [no matter where your thoughts and emotions veer], wherein the Holy Spirit has been singing a song through you. … You just needed to let that natural side go and let the Spirit come forth in ascendancy. ” I’m not sure how that works but sure welcome the thought I might be somehow singing sometimes without even knowing it!
Moments.
They matter.
Reminds me of something I say to myself semi regularly…
Give what you got.
Do what you can.
Don’t trip over what’s behind you.
Thank you for the reminder.
Rick, your practical, compassionate wisdom bowls me right over as I read your words today. Thank you!
So simple, yet so profound.
I’m enlisting the pause. A pause can feel empty—or holy. I want to know more about holy.
Me too!!