I like today just fine. I was preparing to sit in my study, literally surrounded by theology books and a statue of Mary on my right...an old ceramic lamp with one of a pink veil over the shade, a history of my way back to God tucked away into every corner. A cup of gingerbread tea in an old Christmas Starbucks mug and my breviary, waiting for me.
But my glasses were loose, so I went to find a tool to tighten them. An hour later, after a drawer has been cleaned, I remember what I intended to do. Such a silly old girl! And yet, I celebrate that I am not feeling well, and can just savor these moments of nothing...which are really moments of great somethings.
It is almost melancholic to describe what this is for me. I'd like to think I was a woman of great character, but really, my way of living has been thrust upon me. I say with hyperbole and drama that so much of what I have loved has left me, beginning at seven days old...that I was forced to learn to love differently. And I can tell you, having lived through the work of it and done so for a long time, that this is really the best way to love.
There are people I know, who are so bitter now, because they were blessed with the 'good life,' so that when it ended, they felt cheated rather than blessed. They learned to expect love, expect stability, expect things to work out their way. even expect people to treat them with respect.
I think about that. It is good to expect things. We are usually treated the way we expect to be treated. It doesn't always work that way. So we have to live in the intention of receiving respect, but not so much as to let the denial of what we ask for to dominate our feelings.
In my 'white' world, I am still reasonably attractive (not repulsive at least, I hope!). Beauty always opens doors. It is both blessing and curse. People make assumptions. In my white world, white people open up to me. In my white world, they lie my blue eyes. They give me second and third chances because I have qualities that attract them. In my white world.
In a world of a different color, I am not seen the same way. And sometimes that is a bit frightening. I go down to St Monica's Church in Dallas and it is a very different world than what I am used to. White people see me and think I am rich, too. They expect me to think and be and do like them. Non-white people there have seen me as a person in a position of power and it is very unsettling. If I go to daily Mass, I am most often asked if I would like someone to come clean my house. Or I am asked for a ride, or something...that throws my understanding of reality off balance. I am not a good housekeeper, but I cannot imagine someone cleaning my house for me. The idea of servant, even in a restaurant, humbles me. I try to treat anyone who does anything for me with great reverence. And I watch very carefully the people who dine with me. It is the best way for me to see know them...how they treat someone who is acting as a servant.
Which is why, I personally could never walk out of a Mass without thanking the priest. I don't know how others view the priest, but for me, in the Mass, he is a servant. His work is to bring the Body and Blood of Christ to us, to feed us physically, spiritually, emotionally...and he should be thanked.
I discovered in a conversation with a massage therapist that Alec Guinness was a devout Catholic. Then, as God usually does for me, I found a DVD at Goodwill with Guinness starring in a movie called "The Prisoner." He played a Cardinal who was put in prison after WWII as an enemy of the State. He told his friends (and his congregation, I think) that he would go to prison, and should he ever be released, he would not be the man he was today. And I suppose I will spoil the ending for you, but he was tortured and brainwashed...and he finally confesses to false accusations concerning his faith. So they release him. And he is so ashamed and prepares himself to be mocked and possibly killed by his faithful followers. He walks out of prison and there are his parishioners waiting for him. He bows his head. They do not say a word. They make a path for him. He walks out and the movie ends.
They know suffering. They understand the difference between justice and mercy. He warned them he would change. He let them down, he thought. They love him anyway.
And such is the Body of Christ. Such is the foundation of real friendship. It is the real way were are supposed to live with one another.
I have some very special friendships. I cherish my friends because family defined as blood relatives is a bit estranged for me. I still have relatives out there, connected to the parents that raised me, and they don't much care for me. I don't put up with crap. And they like to dish it out. I love them from a distance. I let them have their world. And they are always welcome in mine, but I choose to not enter theirs. My children, I love deeply, and my greatest gift I can give them is to let them lives their lives as they choose, not as I choose. (as if I could possibly make them live as I want them to! what a waste of energy!) I am there, but I celebrate their independence and the trials they face, but I do not fix, or attempt to correct. Their lives belong to them. They belong to God, not me. It is a different love than the love for a friend.
A friend is a choice. It is a seeking out of a person with the right mix of similarity and difference to make an encounter always interesting. It is a relationship where love can be given and received without fear. It is a place where you can kind of tell when its time to come and its time to leave. It doesn't drain either person, rather it fills and energizes. It offers hope...and a great sense of peace. Sometimes is is a natural connection and other times it requires the effort of both persons involved.
I remember at TAMU, I lived across from the most beautiful man God ever created. He was beautiful, handsome...my own personal "Captain Von Trapp" I thought. The first night I met him, we sat in his apartment and talked for hours...and then, the next thing I remember was him putting a blanket over me. I was asleep on his sofa. To this day, I remember exactly how that blanket felt and what I was thinking. I fell asleep in a complete stranger's apartment. And I was completely happy. Putting the blanket over me woke me, but I tried not to stir...because I knew I was in a holy moment and I wanted it to last as long as it could. I had found a real friend.
Real friendship is when silence between two people is comfortable.
Months later, after many long talks and laughter and meals shared, we kissed one night...and...there was nothing there to support it. We were friends. That was all. The most beautiful man God ever created...and I could not think of him in any romantic way. We were friends. I would let nothing interfere with that status.
Each of us are called into a relationship with each other. Some will be friends, others acquaintances, some family, some husbands and wives. I encourage you to enter deeply into the relationships that God has created for you.
Like the Cardinal, the relationships will always be complicated and challenging. They will be work. But they will also bring bliss and encounters of God that you could not have found otherwise.
I have people in my life that I know I will have to let go of eventually and that hurts, knowing that truth. But to not risk loving them anyway would be the greater crime.
Sometimes I walk into a hospital room and I immediately love the child, adult in the bed. I know this relationship is so temporary. Maybe I already know this person is going to die soon. At the very least, they will leave my life when they leave the hospital. But in this moment, we are friends. And that is a gift from God.
To have but not to hold.
To heal and then to fly.
To love as love was meant to be.
He loves us and lets us live our lives as we choose. He hopes we choose Him.
I'm out of time...
Love, Cindy
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