His Way

"It was a deliberate choice, I chose, consciously and willingly, to abandon myself to God's will, to let go completely of every last reservation...Across that threshold I had been afraid to cross, things suddenly seemed so very simple. There was but a single vision, God, who was all in all; there was but one will that directed all things, God's will. I had only to see it, to discern it in every circumstance in which I found myself, and let myself be ruled by it. God is in all things, sustains all things, directs all things. To discern this in every situation and circumstance, to see his will in all things, was to accept each circumstance and situation and let oneself be borne along in perfect confidence and trust. Nothing could separate me from him, because he was in all things. No danger could threaten me, no fear could shake me, except the fear of losing sight of him. The future, hidden as it was, was hidden in his will and therefore acceptable to me no matter what it might bring. The past, with all its failures, was not forgotten; it remained to remind me of the weakness of human nature and the folly of putting any faith in self. But it no longer depressed me. I looked no longer to self to guide me, relied on it no longer in any way, so it could not again fail me. By renouncing, finally and completely, all control of my life and future destiny...I was freed thereby from anxiety and worry, from every tension, and could float serenely upon the tide of God's sustaining providence in perfect peace of soul."

--Father Walter J. Ciszek

"I rescue all who cling to me, I protect whoever knows my name, I answer everyone who invokes me, I am with them when they are in trouble; I bring them safety and honor. I give them life, long and full, and show them how I can save."

--Psalm 91: 14 - 16

 

The sun is rising through the clouds at last. I slept on an air mattress in my grandsons' bedroom.  The youngest was quite unhappy, both about giving up his bed and not being able to sleep with Nana.  His lower lip pooched out and he stomped his foot.  This was the way it was going to be, whether he liked it or not.  He didn't like it. 

 

I recall the evening of my first real test.  The first granddaughter seemed always to do what was required.  She was more of a pleaser, she is still the one who stands quietly by and lets others get the glory...or the correction...most of the time.  I admire her quietly and hope I can be a good enough grandma to her.  Like my daughter, she was the test case. All the firsts come to her, and the rules get learned from what happens there.

 

But the first real test was with the second  granddaughter.  This one was going to have it her way.  She and her dad stood on the side of the road.  I sat in the van, hearing the entire conversation...and thinking this was a lot like my son playing football.  He told me before his first game, "No matter what happens Mom, do NOT run out into the field."  I thought, how outrageous!  Why would he think I would do that?  And then, as quarterback, he was sacked and knocked out. I sat there alone, watching three coaches standing over him.  I remembered his words and realized he was right.  Damn. 

 

So now my son is all grown up and parenting.  He is standing there...and I have repeat to myself over and over again: "Do not interfere.  He's the Dad.  Let him be the Dad."  I hear my boy "reasoning" with his three year old daughter. "You have a choice. Do as I say or you will be spanked.  He explained what he wanted her to do in the car. He explained that her behavior was unacceptable.What do you want to do?"  (I think that's how it went, remember, I was working hard to keep my mouth shut.  I wanted to defend my poor little granddaughter!)

 

The stand off continued for what seemed like an eternity to me.  My son's patience seemed to be extraordinary.  I think I would have lost my temper long before.  But my granddaughter thought it out, and decided to obey.  I breathed deep.  They got back in the van and we all went merrily home. 

 

This was not the way I thought I would write this blog today.  I had something else in mind, but it seems that God had other plans for my hands.  I have had a lot of blessings this week.  Yet being anxious never seems to completely leave me.

I've been told I do exceptionally good work as a chaplain.  I now must decide what to do next.  I do love my work...I think I love it because it is not really me doing the work.  I give my power to God and He does the work.  That is why it is good.  It is really not in my hands.  And being in that kind of obedience, or submission, is more blissful that I would ever have imagined.  I think if you have not experienced it, you cannot understand it. I stand joyful when I let God do it His way. 

 

So yesterday, I found myself once again thinking someone very important to me, had been harsh and I disapproved.  I think I still disapprove in some ways, because I have not reached that place yet where I completely understand what it means to love.  I have come a long way, yes...but now I find I am being asked to 'take it to the next level,' and that is disturbing to me.

 

As I mused on it all over the night, I realized how the dots began to connect.  Last week in the hospital, I found myself being corrective, which I realize is not my job...but seemed to come out of me because I had been working a double shift.  I talked with one man and his daughter.  She was crying.  I asked him what happened. He said he'd been drinking too many beers and passed out and hit is head on the driveway.  I looked at him.  "See how your daughter is crying?  She loves you very much.  Maybe you might want to make some better choices." (not quite, I'm sure I did it much better, but I kept thinking...Cindy, you are so acting like a nun...the way I remember nuns anyway)  He said he was Catholic.  I said I was, too, and he gasped!  Everything he needed came into his head then.  We prayed and I left shaking my head, "What's wrong with me? That is not what I am supposed to to!"  But perhaps an hour later, I confronted another man who started a fight somewhere.  His throat was slit,  but superficially.   I looked into the wound, curious how deep it cut, but did not succeed to cut his artery.  This time I talked quite strongly about forgiveness. He nodded his head. (What the hell was I doing?)  And we prayed.  The whole day was like that.  I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me and yet some part of me thought, "I've had enough.  I and sick and tired of people abusing each other.  It has got to stop.  Somebody has got to say something."  But still I felt like it wasn't my place to interfere.

 

So then  yesterday, which took some time for me to understand, I was not happy with my friend.  But I had always been able to trust his judgment, even when I thought he was completely wrong.  I do not understand why or how we talk, but I know God knows what he is going, so I stay with it.  I trust it.  And I grow in spite of myself.  And while I don't really know what is happening on the other side of the table, I trust I bring blessing, too. 

 

Such is the way of living.  To think we have to be in agreement to secure family and friendship is an error.  We simply have to love, and through loving, the truth will out itself. 

 

In my own stubborn way, I remain obedient to the call and to the promise I have made. God stands with me on the side of the road and asks me, "Here is the truth.  What do you want to do?"  And while He does not "spank,"  He knows (and I know) the consequences of my actions will either lead to life...or to death.  Being reasonable doesn't always help.  Sometimes some serious parenting must take precedence, even when we appear to be "all grown up."  The conrrections are never easy to hear, and not always easy to follow, but once the emotion is spent...the love remains...and no one wants to deny real love. 

"It was a deliberate choice, I chose, consciously and willingly, to abandon myself to God's will, to let go completely of every last reservation...

 

Love, Cindy