Mother Teresa

Jesus had to become poor to be able to be one of us.
He had to become small
He had to become weak
He had to become helpless
He had to become dependent
He had to become lonely,
To feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for.
Except for his mother, nobody knew who he was...
"Words to love by..." Mother Teresa, Ave Maria Press, p. 26

What happened yesterday? Mass, breakfast with a dear friend, hospital visits until 2??? Phone calls to people who I haven't said I love you to in a while. Emails. Goodwill Store. No statues of saints...always wanting more statues of saints. But a few books and DVDs...we all have our additions.

Left half gallon of milk in car...again...

Watched a DVD last night, not one I bought. Called "The Star of Bethlehem." a loaner from someone who knew my passion for astronomy. Had me stuck to the chair in the kitchen for over an hour. The conjunction of Jupiter with Venus to create the "brightest star" in the sky. The comments about 'reading' the stars for the prophesy of this new king go unchallenged for me. I found one or two 'holes' in his argument, but nothing to not support him.

And having taught astronomy and once being married to an astronomer, I was caught in sitting there with knowledge I already knew. Now what I must do is determine what might/can happen next. Everything is connected. Time, as it exists, is fluid, it brings us to where we are supposed to be according to His plan. Some of us see the signs. I don't know if that really helps, but some of us see ahead, two, three, four moves on the board. Those are the midwives, the ones who bring life forward out of darkness. These are the priests and prophets, the lovers of God and those who hunger for good. The ones who have hope. The ones who receive love.

The boy had to become like us so that we could see him. God is always with us, but we do not always see him.

Me, in my great loneliness, see him every minute of every day. Perhaps loneliness is too harsh a word, but solitude is just too kind. Unattached perhaps, for detached sounds so cold.

But the celibates have it right. Even John Wesley knew how much trouble it was to married. Let me try this theme again:

In order to love everyone, you must desire no one. There is not the distraction of having to satisfy the needs of a particular object of love, and then of course, the children that often result of the bond. Their needs must be acknowledged and embraced and attended to.

To love as I have learned/am learning to love...is different and yet really wonderful. Except for the times when it is not.

A conversation with a priest this week: He told me something I'm trying to get my head around..."once you experience unconditional love, things change." And like Billy Abraham would say in class, "we need to unpack that idea."

Do I know unconditional love? Perhaps. Have I received it? Maybe. You see, all the woundings of my life make me very receptive to God's love and grace. In Him, with Him, I am in bliss. Other people tell me they want this bliss for themselves, but cannot find it. I wonder sometimes, they haven't been wounded enough or broken enough to see it yet. To feel it yet, to receive it yet.

Not that someone would have to go through the things I've gone through, but that one must be willing to let go of what all those attachments they might have provide. It is easier to let go of things that are obviously unhealthy. But things that are only a little unhealthy...well, how much harm can they do?

So as an adversary to myself, I have to present the question: have I known unconditional love from a human being? Is that even possible? Most human love is based on what we might receive from the object of our affections. We love for what the object of our love can give us. Not really unhealthy, but not really selfless either. So perhaps something else is at play that I don't yet understand.

What is God teaching me right now? What does He want me to do? Where is the next step?

I have become small, weak, dependent, helpless and lonely. Many times feeling unwanted, unloved, uncared for.

Can I see them now? Can I see the work I am supposed to do? Can I love from here? Have I let Him in far enough to let Him out?

Can you see what I am telling you? Do you know what you must do? Can you be brave enough to follow the star?

Fr. Jason was right. That poem from Donkey Bells is perfect. Heaven is within your reach. Here and now. You can taste it. You can feel its wind on your face. Sister Doughtery knows it is true, so do I. we have a very good place to go, when we are ready.

Larry died last night. Now he knows. He suffers no more. We who are left behind will hold each other and remind ourselves that here and now matters too.

I wish you a blessed waiting.

Love, Cindy