The day before yesterday, I deleted several entries from FB. Worse yet (for me), I did not save what I wrote. I have a large tub in my closet filled to the top with journals from past years. I have thrown a few away, but not many. Some of the pain I had to work through back in my 30s was just too raw. Probably would have been good fodder for Jerry Springer, but sensationalism was never my goal. Making sense of life has always been my goal.
The other day, God seemed to put on my heart the need to say some things that were less than pleasant to a specific individual. Urgings like this can never be good. They never turn out well. But, I also know, from past experience, if I speak out and am body slammed into the floor, it really doesn't matter. I don't really need to know if what was spoken (I don't like to say 'I said' because if I was saying it, well...I wouldn't have said it at all!) worked or was helpful. Pride is what makes us want to know if we succeed or fail. The request from God is to be obedient. Rewards and punishments, well...are part of that gravy thing. (Have I written about the gravy thing yet?)
My thought is, that if we do it to get some reward, even then our obedience to God becomes motivated by the wrong thing. This may really annoy some people. But the question has to be asked: Why do you (I) love God? It is for reward? Is it to feel good? Is it to feel better about ourselves? Is it because we fear God's wrath or going to hell? Why do we love?
If we can say yes to those reasons, then for me, I still believe I am using God as a means to an end. I just can't bear to do that. My love for God is a choice, yes. But my love for God is unconditional. It is a love for what has already been given, not for what I might get later down the road. It is now a love that is not dependent whether or not my life turns out well. My love is not given to God because I want some special seat in heaven. Even the existence of heaven almost seems insignificant when I think about my love for God. Even if all there is is what I have right now, then even that would be enough reason to love God. I have found such peace in keeping that idea in my heart. What I have is enough gift. Anything else is gravy.
So last night, I took my Sacramentary, which I found at Half-Price Books for about five dollars, and stood before my crucifix that is nailed at the end of the hallway to my bedroom.
(I hung it there about 13 years ago and laughed, because I thought then, any man who wants to sleep with me is going to have to walk to that crucifix first before he enters my bedroom. OK, I have a bizarre sense of humor!)
I opened the book and read Eucharistic Prayer I aloud. But I read it in first person (since I was the only one there). And then I added all my personal details, about what I had done, about what I wanted to do for God, about all the people I loved and how I wanted to be a blessing to them. I remembered all the people who have loved me who died and thanked God for them. It was a wonderful prayer time!
Then later, I slept. But I have to write here that I cannot tell the entire story correctly in this moment. There were many blessings of the day. A person that I did speak a "truth" with actually understood and loved me for trying. That moved my heart to a new level of love, too. Then I delivered Holy Communion to two delightful older women. Each one tells me new stories. One told me her truth, and her eyes welled up with tears in the belief that she was no longer useful to anyone. I told her she was useful to me. She let me visit her. We shared stories together. She shared her life with me for a few moments. That is very useful.
Then there was the Cennacle luncheon, in a pinkish house with statues of Mary everywhere you turned. And the women prayed, aloud and together, for priests. And then a priest came and prayed with us. The hostess gasped as she saw the priest walk up her sidewalk. Her joy, in that moment was complete. He shared food with us.
Everyone had good stories and love was abounding.
So I prayed in my hallway, before the Crucifix that I have known all my life, was always by the front door of the house where I grew up. This Crucifix was there my entire life. And I prayed the perfect prayer (the Eucharistic Prayer) before it. And I went to sleep.
I wish I could remember more of the dream. I believe I was standing with my mother in a busy city. I remember city buses and cars on the street. I remember oak trees that grew is grassy areas, not too old, but I remember the green leaves. I'm pretty sure they were live oak trees.
Much happened in the dream before what I can recall now, but I remember turning to my mother and saying, "I have to leave you now." And I flew. It took a little work to not hit the oak trees as I left the ground. I remember having to change direction a bit to dodge the branches. And then I was flying off into the night sky, filled with stars that sparkled like diamonds. The black was a perfect black as much as the stars truly carried every color of creation. I went so high, so fast, it even surprised me, to be flying above the earth and crossing over waters, I think.
I looked just below me and saw an airplane. I heard its sounds, which were not too loud for some reason, and I decided to float down and touch it, to see if it was really real. It was, and I held on for a bit and rode with it as perhaps someone rides a dolphin or a whale. The wind picked up against my face. It was nice.
Then suddenly I thought, how foolish to be holding onto a plane (jet, actually) I could get sucked into the engine like birds sometimes do. I looked behind me and the fuselage was covered. I knew I was safe. But I decided to let go and travel alone again.
I looked below and saw the lights of a small city. Like stars on the ground and there in front of me was a beautiful glistening lake. I thought I wanted to go there, but something in my heart was telling me, "Time to go home." I flew away from the lake and toward the city I had left. For a fleeting moment, I thought, usually I could have never flown this high, usually the wires always stopped me. But today, there were no wires...and I soared.
Then I woke up. My heart felt more alive that I have known it to be, perhaps since before I ever married. It felt like the muscle itself had grown firm and vibrant as if it were a child's heart. It pumped strongly and seemed to send the blood properly through my body again. This is hard to describe, but I woke completely convinced that God had given me a new heart.
It was a miracle.
"Create in me a new heart, O God
And renew in me a right spirit."
Psalm 51:10-11
There is more to say, but this will have to do. I'm still sorting it all out.
May you be blessed with the dreams of your desires.
Love,
Cindy
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