Never gonna fall in love again...

In my attempts to prepare for tomorrow's retreat, I have been writing much here. (I hardly ever write in my journals these days, so the ink and paper ones have lasted much longer than expected. I still enjoy looking at them more than going on line, though). I don't know exactly who reads these things, so I must be careful how I process my ideas.  I need tomorrow to be free of any bias.
Yet I am exposed this week to many images of heaven and hell.  From personal experience and from the experiences of others. And in this wash of ideas and feelings and prayer, I supposed I am required somehow to write about it.
In the "Catholicism" series, Fr. Robert Barron reminds us of certain ancient images of heaven and hell.  He reminded me that hell is cold.  It is a frozen wasteland. Frozen because it is the place where the ego is turned on itself.  This might be hard to grasp: but where there is no connection, there is no love.  Where there is no love, there is no God.  Where there is no God (even little "g" god), there is hell.
If all we had is ourselves, then existence has no meaning, no purpose, no identity.  We would have no name. Alone is hell. Being alone for eternity...without even a thought to torment us...that is hell.

Of course, the belief that we are alone is the core belief in depression.  We take pills to make "the feeling" go away.  But we don't need pills. We need to connect...to the earth and to each other. That is a huge and scary risk. To risk love is to risk pain and suffering. And loneliness. But not the loneliness associated with emptiness. This is a loneliness that is associated with the great desire to always be with the Beloved. It is not the alone-ness of hell. It is more of a waiting, a longing, for that which will complete us.

These things are difficult to write about, but I see so much suffering, I must try.

This week, in my work, one room I visited contained both heaven and hell.  This week I go to a place where people live to be cared for by others. This week, it smelled good. That is not always the case. But this week, too, I sat with a young woman who was near to tears because she and her brother can no longer afford the care they are giving their mother. They are forced to move her to a less expensive place. How often do I hear this!  We spend a lot of time talking about the unborn, yet we must also be advocated for the old and infirm, though I suppose the passion for their care is causes less outrage...sigh...
I always digress. The air was breathable. I offered communion to one, who struggled to sit up, even though I told her it was alright to lay down. Clearly, she did not wish to receive Jesus lying down. And we prayed together. As I left, I spoke with her roommate, who had always been sleeping. This other woman began to tell me how horrible it was to live there. How she was not getting proper care and how she had to hide her valuables under her pillow.  I said I would speak to the nursing staff. She told me it would do no good. I then said I would pray for her...and she became so angry.
What good is prayer?
 God doesn't listen.
Don't waste your time.
I'm not a child.
 There is no one to help.
And it went on from there. I suppose I should have shut up, but I didn't. Why not give it a try, just for a few days?  Pray and see what happens. She continued to speak of her misery.  

When I left, I thought about how heaven and hell were in the same room. How we don't always have control over the circumstances in our lives, but we do have control on how we receive them. 

This morning, I work to Beethoven's Piano Sonata in E-major. This one I had worked on for so long, my fingers grew numb at times while I was trying to build up my muscles, and it was during that struggle I began to play the piano with some real skill.  I practiced hours a day, often leaving dinner preparation to the last minute. I began to think about my husband, who had to hear hours of those notes as I tried again and again to get the left had trills just right. And suddenly, this morning, I realized how much I had not considered him.  I realize I was not a very good wife, but this morning, I found pain my heart....

Because he loved the piano, too.  We began to date because we both loved the piano so much.  I loved his Beethoven and he loved my Rachmaninov.  Only I got to take lessons and study the piano.  He got create and build satellites and such...but he would no doubt come home, and hear the piano...and wish that he had time to play. I suppose I sensed this, but I was too selfish then to offer compassion.  All I could see was how my marriage prevented me from being a concert pianist.  So we both lived in a kind of hell.  Seeing what we didn't have, rather than what we did. We were not grateful.

At least, I probably should say, I was not grateful. I cannot speak to his feelings, but it must have been bad...for he looked elsewhere for love and understanding. Truth is, no one is free from guilt when a marriage fails. And, no one person is fully responsible for its failure. That will be a hard pill to swallow for some of us. 

In this season of Lent, we need to know our truths, befriend them and the forgive them.  It is hard. The ego wants its own way. The id can never say no to pleasure. I kind of think that love is the only way to survive this world. Yet, we place such constrictions on love. And when we do...we can slide back into the ice cold of hell.

But love love does burn us. When I begin to fall back into my pity party, my feeling that I'll never have what I want in this world...I can think of those people who have loved me without reserve. In fact, I have one particular image of one person particular person, on one particulr day, who gave me what I needed most at the moment I needed it most, and when I thought I was the one doing the giving, the tables turned on me and I was the one who was wounded...while the other was wounded.

And that sacrifice, all I have to do is remember it...and it defeats all of the evil the devil tries to tells me is true. It's fire melts the ice I didn't even know existed in my heart and I am able to love again.

This is what we must do for each other. Not for everyone, but just for the ones God sends to us. Nothing is by chance. In every moment, we choose between heaven and hell. Between fire and ice.  The living flame of love, or the eternal ice wasteland of hell.

What keeps you from falling in love again? Ask God to show you. Then offer it up in sacrifice. Risk love. Risk connection. Risk the pain it will bring.

And the Kingdom of God will be within you.
You know I'm right. <3

Love, Cindy