Divine Mercy

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

That's our little platitude from Job to remind us we are not in charge. To remind us EVERYTHING is a gift from God.  The good, the bad, the ugly.  Not one piece of it belongs to us, can't take even a breath with us when we leave. Everything is a gift.

Me, I've been forced to look at my life AGAIN, since the beginning of Lent, with a blind woman who is all about goals. We have struggled together and anytime I try to give her power, she throws it back in my face. And the power I gave to priests...is back in my hands again. I don't want it. I know what it means to take it back. I preferred the fantasy that I could let them guide me closer to God. What I kind of realize now is that I was taking them closer to God...not to the God of Rome...but the God of all the earth. Sounds pretty outrageous and arrogant. Still, I know it is true.

Not by me. Not by the woman named Cindy. But by her life. By how they felt around her, how they reacted...what they learned about themselves. That's the whole point, you know. That's a vision of the Trinitarian God.  The one who entered humanity and loved it.

I don't matter. But what I do matters. Who I touch matters. What I say matters. Who touches me...and why.  This is the incarnation event. Not a noun but a verb.  Nothing about God stands still. We can measure everything else in the universe, but we will never be able to measure God, because God moves...is always moving...there is no time, no place, no word....of  God....these temporal events we have are the incarnation...when a human decided, for whatever reason, to wait, to listen, to the Divine. The human began to understand soul...and then spirit...and learned mercy.

Now take what I wrote and put it on you. Each encounter is holy. Each encounter is divine. Each moment of love that you deny is an outright denial of God.

I don't want that kind of power. I don't want to be aware of the moments I deny God's love. This grief is overwhelming: to realize that I have not loved. Or perhaps to demand love...one can never demand from God anything...although I have certainly given it my best shot. Knowing His Divine Mercy allows me to choose to live in this world that unrelentingly tried to kill every good thing in a human. Divine Mercy allows me to suffer the loneliness and betrayal of those closest to my heart and survive. Divine mercy allows me to forgive the unforgivable...and casts into Hell all that which torments me, reminds me where I have failed, what I ignored, or left behind.

I can't explain these last weeks too well yet. I do not like how I feel and I do not want to be around some people. The male bear in me wants to go into the cave and sort it out first...but the only way to sort it out is coming into the light. Can't solve problems in the dark.

So maybe I'll be resurrected on Divine Mercy Sunday. That would be nice.

Love, Cindy