So the trip to Arkansas is having it's desired effect. I have come home and I am still cleaning, I have so much more to do...and I need to get the yard, after that horrible summer last year...back in shape, either to live here or to sell. *****
I have been given such a wonderful gift: the ability to choose. I suppose I have wanted for so long for God to choose for me, but I am realizing that is not how this life is going to work. This life, meaning my life. He informs my decisions, but He does make them for me. And suddenly, I want to choose.
What is most prominent in my mind is an encounter with a woman yesterday. I could see that a battle had been raging and that the woman working with her was tired and had much more work to do, but the woman I came to see, was in a panic...and because of where I am right now emotionally and spiritually, I felt her suffering...I felt both women's suffering, but I decided to work with the charge I had been given. She was so very frightened. She said to me, "I have always done what God wants. I know he will take care of me." And we talked about what was happening in the room. The other woman was glad to leave us. But I sat with this beautiful woman, and all I wanted to do was pick her up and cradle her in my arms. Rock her. Sing to her. And sing to her, I did. She liked that. She wanted to "go home." I left my little theology lesson in my back pocket. Today, was just touching. Holding a hand, when allowed. A hug. Whatever.*****
That was the theme of my visits, it seemed. The existential truth that death is unavoidable, and if you have faith, you know you have some place to go. It was overwhelming today. Was there just more, or have I grown too weak? But the love...that was present...that was what stayed young.
It's going to be a very long day today.(Tuesday) I have many visits and then a long meeting tonight. This retreat is so different from the last one, as it should be. I am different. The team is different. But I have gone into this one with virtually no expectations (that in itself, is an expectation). What I thought could happen, should happen...was best...I have let go. I needed to let go. *****
The Methodist Church could never complete me, though it served me well to teach me things I needed to know, that the Catholic Church would never teach. The Catholic Church, I understand now, will never complete me either. Yet it is without question, in my mind, and for me, the most perfect human journey I will get. But it will never complete me. Only God can complete me, if I choose Him. And I choose Him.
Lots of conservatives out there trying to force God into a box again. Lots of liberals out there trying to turn God into a tool to use for their own benefit and particular agendas. I am unimpressed with both. But I understand why it is happening.
What does it mean to love one another? That's about it, you know...all the other words either support this truth or they work to destroy it. Love one another. The Jews tried to put God in a temple...and then in a little box, hidden behind curtains and candle and incense. That God would come out and speak to one person only one time a year...that there are chosen people implies that there are unchosen people. I just think that is noise the devil whispers to let us think that only some of us are special.
All of us a special. All of us are cherished children of God. There is no better or worse, no less or more...
I have to go to Mass now...*****
A few hours later, I have completed half of my visits. All good visits. The little boy I dreamt about last night, his grandmother was in the hospital today. There are connections all around me...and I am so discontent with myself I do not know what to do. Yet my interior 'onery-ness' does not seem to affect my ability to remain pastoral. I have received many blessings today for which I am grateful. But like that recent video of that spoiled child who did not want to put her bowl into the sink because it was "too heavy," I am angry and I have no identified source for the anger.
It always seems to come in the form of a collar, yet I was reminded today that a collar would only inhibit my ability to do my work. Like the little girl in her tantrum...no doubt at some point she realized she was going to lose the battle but that knowledge didn't calm her down, she just acted out even more.
Some days I think pride slows us (okay,me) down more than anything else. The demand to have things our way. I think I have overcome that weakness in me and then something or someone happens and my brain boils over with envy and jealousy. How quickly I forget my own blessings when I covet another's gifts!*****
Early this morning, I was in conversation with a friend, telling her about the last two weeks. She was stunned by the sequence of events, and how the story unfolded. The cleaning, the disposing of things, the found box of high school memories and pictures of friends and lovers. And then the box from my mother. Putting my books in order, all my retreat materials and Bible studies and organizations I built and others I led. Kind of a week of "It's a Wonderful Life." I began to see the joys and sufferings in a different light. I saw where I had to forgive others. I saw where I had to forgive myself. And I had to go to my special friend, who could hear me better than anyone else and not look bored. He told me "Go away, Cindy. Just go rest somewhere. Go to Arkansas." I could not see that I was about to fall apart, but he could.
Then, in Arkansas...I found a picture of the Divine Mercy in a nice frame, for a dollar...and several statues of the Holy Family, Mary and Jesus painted inside a shell, a Tiarra candle holder, a Shenandoah coffee cup and saucer, a night light...and I made a little altar on Marilyn's dining room table, lit the candle and prayed by the river. The next day, I found a beautiful crucifix of Jesus about six feet tall. I wanted to hold Him, but I knew the shop owner would just flip if I did anything more than gently touch Him.
Then there was the vision...again...and I could say so much more...the richness and thickness of God's presence in my life. I had to return home after half of my visits again. I don't know why they are wearing me out so much right now, but they are...perhaps it is allergies.
I see these people, often in a bed or a wheelchair. I stand over them, gently wake them, "Would you like Holy Communion?" and they almost always begin to tear up. The helplessness, the surrender to a body wearing out and knowing that the living often don't want to take too much time with the dying...their gratitude for my chance to pray with them, to touch them, to give them the Body of Christ...is almost unbearable, but bear it I must. I must say thank you, even though it is I should be doing the thanking. I need to stay that extra five minutes with someone, even when my mind begins to wonder where I have to be next, and if I will have time to finish. I must force myself to slow down and say, "These moments with these people matter deeply. How often, in the last three years, has the Communion I have brought been the last one they received? How many prayers have I prayed that, the next time I come, they can no longer pray with me, no longer respond? Was the last person in that room in a hurry, or tired, or in a bad mood? I must always bring joy and hope. I must touch them as if they were the most important person in the world. I must respect them. I must cherish their smiles and their tears. Yes, only in this moment, do I suddenly realize, I must see Jesus in each of them. Yes. That is important.*****
There is so much more. I wonder if I am boring you. Do you know that this is your job, too? I work hard at what I do, but I will never see them all...and some might die this week without anyone offering them a kind word or the love of God. It takes all of us. How can I inspire you to risk your life for another in this way? Hold the hand of someone who is ill, or you know will die soon...not lie to them, or correct them, or deny their suffering. Not judge them, but just touch, just listen. When I think about all the rooms I walk past that I cannot enter...hearing the cries of "help me" down the hall...and knowing how little I do...yet always honoring what I do...I think to be properly humble, you own who you are and who you are not...and keep trying always to give your best...and sometimes giving your best is sitting on the river in Arkansas...just don't kid yourself or jerk your own chain. Be honest...but free with the gifts you have been given by God.
And I have no doubt, the encounters will bless you...and you'll have weeks like mine...breaking open your heart and mending it again...of loving and finding, and of loving and losing. But always, always finding God. In the world, in them and in you...
*****
Love, Cindy
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