Many of the participants in the global vigil of massed intercessory prayer for my son back in 1998 reported afterwards that the vigil had been an important experience in their spiritual lives. We heard many stories of deepened faith, and indeed even a conversion or two, or new awakenings of faith long dead. The hour wasn’t at all noteworthy for me, qua prayer, because I was totally absorbed that day in the scutwork of caring for my son at the hospital, and in my anxiety over his condition. So I was impressed by some of the reports that we later heard.
Which leads to the question, What happened to you during the prayer vigil for Lawrence Auster? Not that anything should have; most sessions of prayer are rather dry, I find; and if we approach prayer hoping for some sort of emotional payoff, we have got the whole thing backwards. But it is an interesting question, and it would be interesting to hear what did happen for you, or didn’t.
I spent very little of the vigil actually being still and praying. Almost none. It was a very busy time in our household, for reasons having to do with cats. But I prayed intently a number of times during the hour – perhaps ten? And I found the evening more and more suffused with that well-remembered feeling of deep peace that began to pervade my days during a three week trip to Great Britain with my boyhood choir of men and boys. We substituted for cathedral choirs on summer vacation, and sang at least three rehearsals and two services a day in those vast holy spaces, redolent of centuries of worship, full of graves. After a few days of observing this quasi-monastic round, we all found ourselves talking more quietly, smiling more, loving the world more attentively. We were still silly, as young men are, and horsed around a fair bit, falling into rivers and that sort of thing. But life, even silly life, became a grave and joyful celebration. The longer we kept at it, the deeper and sweeter it got. The music in particular penetrated us all with peculiar power. I remember thinking, “so this is what monasticism is about.”
The vigil brought that back, strongly. No grand epiphanies, no flashes of insight, just a sweet affection for the world and all her members, and a happy gratitude to God for having granted them to me.
The Orthosphere 
We “down-under” encouraged our members to take part in the prayer vigil, although the time difference meant that we were perhaps the first to commence the intersession and finish it before the US started theirs. We hope that even if Lawrence Auster’s health does not improve immediately, at least he may have some solace knowing that there are people of good will wishing him well from around the world.
I gave it a shot, but I fell asleep after about five minutes because I have the flu.
I prayed a rosary for Mr Auster. Nothing unusual happened to me.
Blogger Kidist Paulos Asrat has posted a reflective item about her observance of the vigil that is worth a read: Where Irish Souls Watch Over Us.
It was a very special night for me, a beautiful way to end Christmas. I felt very in tune with Jesus and Mary while I prayed a rosary for Lawrence.
I’m not much of a praying type, but I was happy to pray for Lawrence Auster.
Not much of anything to report on my end. I was pleased to be able to pray for the full hour (“able” both in the sense of having the time to set aside and the attention to persevere in prayer for the entire duration, which is rare for me). I did feel that overwhelming sense of calm and peace that comes after committing oneself, mind and body alike, to lengthy prayer and meditation.
I notice a few people mentioned praying rosaries; I did as well, plus the divine mercy chaplet. I also prayed the Penitential Psalms and recited Sunday vespers for the intention of his healing (the timing lined up nicely). I also spent a lot of time praying extemporaneously, which is also rare for me for the same reason — prayer coming to me with such difficulty and in such fits and spurts. I wonder if, when praying sincerely out of love for another rather than for oneself or out of necessity, God doesn’t assist us with the grace necessary to persevere in prayer when we need it.
I had my children join me in prayer, which I hope was a good experience for them. We were out running errands while my wife was at home, so it was a bit hectic, yet those times when we parked and prayed made for nice respites from hurly-burly of our quotidian chores.
I did light a candle after getting home, and prayed, both alone and with my children again.
Upon reflection, I suppose the biggest benefit for me was the mindfulness of the hour.