Last night, I woke up feeling more empty than I have ever felt in my life.
At Mass that morning, Fr. Henry reminded us to pray. More than that, he reminded us to pray in the sanctuary. Come to this holy place and stay with God awhile. I thought about it. I had been negligent this week in my prayer life. Oh, yes, on Wednesday I was as high as a kite, especially seeing Fr. Duffy on the video talking about Vatican II. It made me remember all of our long conversations while I was going through seminary. He kept my spirits up. He held me up when I was ready to crash. Once, I think we talked for three or four hours, and it felt like only minutes. He always made me feel safe. And as I observed him with others, every person he ever spoke with always felt like they were the only person in the room. To me, he is a true pastor. Remembering all his kindness to me, how he believed in me, well...that was a very good thing. Far from the perfect priest, he was more like Jesus, who understood the heart of the Law. But I digress.
Prior to that, I spent time in stillness with God. Such a heavenly experience, to be still with God. And yet, since I do not know heaven, it might seem a foolish thing to say. But it was a place of peace and perfectness. Words are beginning to disappear from my prayers. Thoughts still come, but they are only thoughts of God. Daily challenges, I suppose, are there, but they do not dominate the experience.
Even after visitations, I am not urged to reflect on them as I once have. They have already become a part of me and when I walk into the sanctuary, I bring them to the table as well. Part of my offering. I don't have to explain it anymore.
So yesterday in spiritual direction, I went off into an odd place. (This happens more often than I would like, but I do not feel compelled to restrain it anymore) I made the suggestion of an image of Jesus resting his head on the pillow next to mine. Opening my eyes, and just seeing him there, protecting me from all the things that go bump in the night. This image was not well-received by the person I was sharing it with. The idea of God being forever present with us was acceptable, but the idea of the Incarnation of God, say, watching us brush our teeth or cook, or even sleep, felt too strange. Still, it was in my head...and like a good French-Irish Catholic...I spewed it out before I thought about it twice.
So early this morning, I wake at 1:30 a.m. and I open my eyes...and He's not there. Jesus is not lying on the pillow next to me and the emptiness hurts my heart, my head, my soul...my soul is so hungry and doesn't know what to do.
I didn't talk to you yesterday, Jesus. I didn't give even one hour of total attention to you and now you are not here. I can't bear having you so far away. Should I get in my car and drive to the church? Do I need that holy place right now? I know all I have to do is ask, and you will come to me, but my place is such a mess...so many distractions here. If I go over there, I'll have to sleep there. What if someone saw me? What would people say?
I need to be strong. I need to trust that you will be here with me, right in this very minute. I crawl out of bed and take a crucifix off the wall. The one that was placed on my mother's coffin...or my dad's coffin...they both look the same. I hold tightly to it, like a child with her favorite stuffed animal. Come to me now, Jesus. I think of the statue of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in the daily chapel. She holds a crucifix. I never got that. I get it now.
Calm my restless heart. I am sorry I wasn't there earlier. I miss you so much. Be with me now, please. Don't make me face this night alone.
The morning comes and I know what I will do with my day. In a few minutes Mass, then possible the hospital ministry breakfast at church, then I will pray. Then I will go to the hospital and pray with those who will receive me. I will smile at the nurses and tell them they do goo work. Then I will go back to the chapel, maybe confession if the timing is right, and I will pray again. That's the plan anyway. God may have another plan in mind.
I suspect that few people will get this, but that is OK. Maybe someone might want to pray a little extra today. That, I think, would make God smile. What an odd and wonderful journey this is!
Love,
Cindy
No comments:
Post a Comment