Oddly beautiful, how the poetry of God works. Christmas Eve brought the blessings of family and friends, laughter, joy, sadness, bliss, remembering people who aren't here anymore and looking around the room and knowing perhaps at least one person I with will not be here next Christmas...and wondering how that will feel.
I've been told that the greatest weeping at funerals come from people who feel regret about the death of someone. Words that should have been said did not get said. Hugs that should have been given were held back. Praise for a job well done was denied because of personal pride. Other things. The calmer deaths are with those who have some sort of peace with God. Even in great suffering, you have an inner knowledge that the person you love is going to a good place...or when it's your moment, you can rest easy in that belief.
At Midnight Mass, I believe I was taken up into heaven, or towards heaven, or near to heaven. IT felt like heaven. I felt a great peace and happiness, I felt perfect joy, I felt I was traveling very fast and beautiful white lights were racing by, not stars but souls. And they were happy. And as soon as I realized I had "left" the church, I was driven back into my body and I felt sad for just a second. And then I was awed by the gift given. A Christmas present from God.
You don't have to believe me. Just believe in Him.
So I am trying to sort out what I might be able to do for God. He doesn't need anything, you know. So what can you give God? Faith, obedience, love, will...why not just give Him all of me? Makes sense. But how? And there is my problem. Mother Teresa says "Do something beautiful for God." And that's exactly what I intend to do. One could argue that if an idea is sanctioned by God, it should all go smoothly, all the pieces should fall into place without challenge. But that is not always the way God works. Sometimes part of 'seasoning' comes from persevering in the darkness. Believing without any consolation or satisfaction. So it is always a challenge to do the will of God. And our faith takes on new dimensions.
I take some solace in knowing that God can work through my mistakes. In fact, I know some of my mistakes have brought greater blessings to myself an others than if I had done it right the first time. So being humble always helps...perhaps more than being right.
Last night, after a deep conversation with someone who matters to me, who is helping me find my way, I felt a bit full of new thoughts. I needed to pray more and allow myself to be open to how God wanted me to take my next step. I felt a bit like I had hit a roadblock and I wanted to go back to my old laments which included a refrain of "Just what the hell do you want from me, anyway?" But it didn't feel like tantrum time. I needed to remain calm. I needed to hear what He wants me to do.
So I drove to Bob Woodruff Park. Only one car was there. A truck. A man took his dogs for a walk in the snow. I could tell they were loving it. Do I really want to do this? Yes. The Divine Mercy Chaplet was playing on my CD. Should have put that on my iPod, too late now. I bundled up and stepped out. Clicked on the iPod. Beatles:
Who knows how long I've loved you?
You know I love you still.
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?
If you want me to I will.
I don't consider anything that happens to me as chance. I believe in signs. I believe in God's providence. Was I singing to Him or was He singing to me? Maybe both.
I walked around for awhile. Didn't wander too far, I'm old now, and not as brave as I was at 20. But I wasn't "finished." What needed to happen didn't happen yet.
And then it did.
I stood under a lamplight by the pond. I looked up, and there is was again. Not quite the resplendent beauty of Christmas at midnight, but there it was above me, swirling white lights against a dark sky. A reminder of Midnight Mass. Thousands upon thousands of souls dancing above me, swirling and laughing and falling into God. It almost made me dizzy, but not enough to look away. It was beautiful. Each different, each dancing its own dance, but each one seemed to be laughing as it surrendered to the place it wanted most to go.
A reminder that we all have a place to go. And it's a good place. It's a great place!
Even if we don't smooth out all the edges in our relationship with others, God takes care of it. We have to remember that. God wins. Every time. Enjoy the now, but the next place is even better!
Love,
Cindy
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