What is essential...

Come Holy Spirit
Fill the hearts of your faithful
Kindle in them the fire of Your Love...

There are so many things I am supposed to do...worldly things and they are catching up with me. I have a relative in Florida who will probably call in a few days asking me why I haven't finished the work I was supposed to do.

"Well that's because I was doing other work" just isn't going to cut it with him anymore. I've got to get it done. And I am afraid.
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Like how last night happened. Like how my whole life is just not really my own anymore. Like I make plans, but nothing ever quite goes as expected. Like there are things I was to write, but oh my...what if I did...I am afraid.

But I'll share a little. I got really ticked off at someone from the retreat I am working on. Trying to be helpful, she asked me, "Have you got your meditation for next week?" "I'm thinking about it," I told her. "Well, why don't you do the Divine Mercy Chaplet?" And inside myself, I just bubbled over. What I heard was: "Cindy, you are such a flake, you never get things done, so here's an answer because I want to know now what you are planning for next week. You are incompetent."

That's not what she said. But that's what I heard.

She's asking me what I am going to do in seven days. I usually don't have a clue what I will be doing in an hour, much less seven days from now. What I mean, is that, I make plans...but I remain always open to the Holy Spirit, and sometimes other things take priority. One was to look at that is gross irresponsibility. Another was to look at it is complete surrender to God. I'm really somewhere in the middle.
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And I get...distracted...like just now...three hours after I started to write. Headed over to Mass at Seton. Got there and Josephine was in a little bit of a panic. Seems I forgot it was Cennacle Wednesday. I usually read on those Wednesdays. But it worked out. Josephine read in honor of her son Michael, as today is honoring angels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael...angels among us...like the angel I think must be mine: Clarence would be good, but probably Earl.
Clarence was the angel in Its a Wonderful Life...the one who showed George Bailey what the world would be like without him...and Earl is Grace's angel...Grace's last chance angel in "Saving Grace." "You're headed for hell, Grace," Earl tells her in the pilot of the show. "I'm just Fed Ex delivering a message."

And that, of course, is the whole point: What would God possibly want with a woman like me? And that was the conversation in the parking lot at St Rita's on Tuesday evening. Why would a woman, with such a colorful past as mine, desire to become a nun? I had a taste of the "other, worldly life. How can I possibly give that up or let it go? Can a woman who is not a virgin become a virgin again?

And that is the $64,000 question. That is the bottom line. That is the core of what and how we understand forgiveness and reconciliation. Is it really, really a clean slate? Does He forgive us when we are contrite and repentant? Of course. Can the world forgive and let go? Who knows. Can we forgive ourselves? Ah, now, that's the kicker.

How much penance is enough penance? At what point do we become whole again? Do we ever become whole again? Here is where we face what we truly believe. The place no one wants to look. Okay, maybe just me. It's damn hard. What mistake, what sin, is unforgivable? Abortion? Murder? Theft? Sloth? Deceit? Depends on the person. Depends on the life lived. That whole God-Incarnation thing...He died on the cross for my sins.

And yesterday while playing the piano, I got to thinking about a woman I visited for about three months before she died. The one Fr. Jason told me to see one Sunday...and when I met her I understood why he asked me to go. I've written about her before. Walked into her room and she was madder than a hornet's nest. Wanted to die and was damn mad at God for keeping her alive. I asked her if she had forgiven everyone. She said yes. Then she had some unkind things to say about her husband. I asked if she had forgive him. She said "Never!" and I said "Well, then I guess you're going to be here a long time."
And as I was laying on the floor, giving my back a rest from the piano and looking up at the crucifix that hung nearby, I was stunned by the obvious. Jesus didn't just die on the cross for our sins. He died to show us how to die. From His point of total vulnerability, He forgave everyone before He died.

You've got to forgive everyone. EVERYONE. Including yourself. Otherwise, you get to work it out in purgatory, where thank heavens time does not exist...and you can stay there until hell freezes over and you finally forgive yourself for your unforgivable crimes while here on earth...or maybe forgive someone who did complete evil against you...and I know about that, too.

Grace knew it, too. Most of the big sins we commit are a result of some sin committed against us. Also hard to embrace, especially for control freaks...and victims of violence are generally major control freaks. (Oh I am making so many assumptions here, forgive me!) Grace had to first realize her behavior was wrong, but to do that she had to look at her life, she had to give herself mercy so that she could see it...and to give mercy, she had to receive it...from Earl, who was exactly the right kind of angel for her.

George Bailey needed an innocent angel, ignorant of the selfish desires of men, ignorant to the fact that George hated himself for doing the right thing...every single time. He was the elder son in the Prodigal Son, wondering why he never got the fatted calf for his party. He couldn't see the blessings in his life because his sight was constantly clouded by all the things he wanted to do.

Good thing I don't know anybody like that.

Hell is the place filled with "if only's." I'm thinking of last Sunday's Scripture reading about Lazarus. Sure hell might be a place of fire and whatever...but I'm thinking the real hell is a place of constant regret: What I coulda, shoulda, woulda, but didn't. Worse yet, you are always in constant view of the ones who did it right...or perhaps more correctly, got to a place where they could forgive themselves for doing it wrong...or less perfectly. The ones who decided to let God be God. What a concept!

Where was I? Oh yeah: feeling insulted. Knowing I'm not good enough. And hating myself for it. So I spent a lot of time thinking about what I was going to do for the meditation on Tuesday. I came up with several ideas, including one where I thought I needed to break a mirror and then dismissed it because I thought someone could get hurt. We needed team building and healing. A chaplet would have had us all looking in the same direction, but not at each other.

I decided on what to do, then I decided, an hour before to go look for the book that went along with my idea. I leaned into the bookcase in my prayer room. Crack! I looked down and realized I had stepped on a mirror, the ones the nuns gave me at St Scholastica. It was shattered. What does that mean? Do they not want me anymore? Am I supposed to use the broken mirror tonight? But I don't remember why I needed a broken mirror...maybe that was just in a dream, that I broke the mirror.

And I couldn't find the book. An hour before I needed to leave the house. Sigh. What now? And then there is was. "The Dream Giver" by Eldridge. Hmmm. Looks interesting. I open it. It opens on the chapter named Sanctuary. I read it quickly. Yes, this will do...and I come up with several ways to use it. After all, God put it in my head for a reason, right?

Short version (yes, this really is the short version), I get to the meeting, I set up the room. I'm going to have them all touch each other deliberately. I'll have them rub each others' shoulders, like in drama class. That always bonds people together. And I'll have them hold hands...which Scripture verses to use Lord? You choose...I choose the book of John. Can't ever go wrong with John. And my Bible opens to John 15. Ah...perfect Lord, you choose well. Vine, branches, connected...I'll help them connect.

They sit in the circle of chairs and I watch them. Important people that should be here are not here. Don't think about that Cindy, it's not your call. The ones who are here are the ones who supposed to be here. Here is where the grace will work. You don't get to decide how it works. And I lay out my books behind me. A candle and a cross in the center of the circle. And I think of how I should begin, only it doesn't happen that way...He has other plans.

And without knowing it, I've begin the meditation. The words are coming out of my mouth, but they are not the words I had planned to say. Part of me is saying to myself, "Shut up Cindy. Shut up. This was not what you planned to do, it won't work this way." And then I realized it has already worked. I feel them calming down, settling into You, Lord. I can feel them getting to that sacred place where I find you so abundantly and deliciously...they've gone there with me...how did that happen? How did you do it Lord? What am I saying? Pay attention to what you are saying Cindy...tie it together...but how...how did I get here? And then I read the Scripture of John 15...I am the Vine...without me you can do nothing...and part of me is leading, I think...but only a little part...another part of me is excited and as surprised as they are about the words coming out of my mouth...they are taking me to you too, Lord...they are carrying me, these women...they are carrying me.

I had them pray separately and then together. Feel your own hand, then feel the hands of the person next to you...and I look around the room and they are clasped tightly together...and I am reading about the vine and the branches...and I an watching the branches grow...

But of course, they much be pruned...and then I suddenly realize why God told me to read the John Eldridge chapter on Sanctuary. "Give me your dream," the Dream Giver asks. "I can't give my dream. It's my dream...and you gave it to me. I'm not giving it back."

And I start to shake a bit inside because I realize that what He asked me to do for them, He has asked me to do for myself. And I almost can't go on...

Give me your Dream, Cindy. The one I gave to you. The perfect dream. The dream of being a priest. The dream of being a nun. A woman like me...oh hell, a woman like me with a dream like those. Give me your Dream Cindy. And I look around the room and see the women, who I had promised them that I would not make them cry...and I see their faces and realize once again how perfect and amazing God truly is.

It ain't just about you, Cindy. It's about all of us, all together. Staying on the vine, holding on to each other. Feeding each other. Loving each other. And giving back to Him the most precious thing He has given to us...

Love, Cindy

The woman I spoke about, she forgave her husband..she forgave them all...and she died well. She was lucky. I think about her every time I visit the columbarium.