Distractions

An hour ago, I decided to write. I've been downloading songs onto my new phone.  Mostly songs about the past. Past lives, past lovers, past dreams...
Came across a little Bible, about three inches by two inches. I could tell my daughter had played with it as a child: she had colored on some of the pages. It had a picture of Jesus next to a boat and said "New Testament WITH PICTURES." I smiled. Then I looked at the first page: "To Cindy, from Herbert Earl Eugene Eubanks III"
Oh my, I had fallen in love with him my sophomore year at Texas A&M.  He was a nice boy, a dentist now, somewhere in south Texas probably.  He got me going to the Baptist Church.  I enjoyed it enough. I mostly enjoyed his company because he was an incredible dancer.  I would even go to church, just to keep him around...
Now that might mean nothing to anyone...except me. The book I picked up before that one was a wired bound journal from probably 1985. I opened to an entry. I was writing about Charlotte, a speech teacher I met. We had become great friends and that made me so very happy.  I was so lonely in my marriage, perhaps because I hid from people...but meeting Charlotte was a deliberate act. I needed to do something I was good at: coaching kids for speech competitions. I recall walking into her office at the high school, telling her I wanted to judge tournaments...that I went to Nationals...and all that jazz. I was lucky, Charlotte welcomed me with open arms. Lots of entries in the book, I realize with both sadness and gladness that some things have never changed. Dozens of ideas for stories, writing about the environment, being married, dreaming about other lives...the usual stuff.
But I wrote some important words about Charlotte: "Charlotte calls it grace. We have been graced with each other's friendship. It doesn't matter whether or not you believe in God. It just matters that through the many eons of personal relationships we have found each other...I have someone to share my poetry with and not be ashamed..."
I write these two events because it reminds me that I was at a very different place back then...wanting to believe in God...but not too sure of the idea. I think now about how God wooed me back...made me remember...things I had lost. I remember the need for connection. For feeling valued. For having a purpose.  I realize that even when we don't know what we are talking (or writing) about, we are always searching for the same things: meaning and connection.
I have been praying much more often and more deeply these days, now that I have a priest again who seems to be willing to walk the path with me, at least for now.  I don't know why it matters, but it does. No doubt more unresolved issues. But that is not for today's writing.

Today is about connecting. To God. To nature. To men and women. To children. Connecting, risking, touching, holding, listening, speaking, feeling human. And remembering.

In The Cloud of Unknowing, there is a discussion about how memory gets in the way of union with God.  I will tell you that, when I am in complete surrender to God, what is past and what might come is so very unimportant...being completely submissive to the now is exquisite and indescribable joy.  But the truth, for me, is, that to get to that island of bliss, I have to wade through my memories of that day, that moment...and give them up...but it is not an emptying experience...it is a gifting experience. I take what is in my head and give it away. I seem to not go to that blissful place unless I give something away.  A tribute perhaps, to the one who gives everything. It is like a long run, and then lying in the grass when the endorphins remind you that you did a good thing, you let the poison out of your body, you willed it out by exercise...and you begin to feel the goodness of just a little cleanliness.
In prayer, you give up wanting anything. You give up wanting. At least I do. Say I want something from someone. I can't stand that I can't have what I want. In prayer, I struggle, first wanting, then weaning myself from that selfish desire and working my way into wanting what God may want of me. As I being to spiritually grasp that experience, I begin to realize the fruitlessness of wanting. I move into the beginning of surrender. I have to ask to want to surrender...and oddly, the desire comes...and with it all the pleasures of letting go. A release...not unlike...other activities you might be able to relate to...only so much more satisfying...and filling. It is like a great war was fought and you lost and you are glad you lost. At least, it is that way for me. I know I always want my own way.

So my prayer time has been much like that. Purging and refilling. 

This week was perfectly horrible on several levels.  On Monday, I felt like I was in the fight for my life.  I hurt in every cell of my body. The wounds were deep...but my head told me, these things had to happen...they were all following the plan, to clean me out from my attachments...absolutely ANYTHING that was keeping me from a closer relationship with God, I was girding myself to remove...and it hurt. I am well aware the journey is far from over. But today, four days later, I am feeling human again...and I recognize the strength that has come to me:confidence in God's will for my life, however this plays out.  I am learning more and more to not want. Hard lessons for a little girl who lost so much early in life.

I agreed to lector today. I did not know the passage, nor had I recognized the feast day.  As I read Ezekiel 47, I remembered the research I did on the passage, about turning salt water into fresh water...and how pre-Christian religions always believed that at that place, where salt water becomes fresh, that is where God resides...and I began to feel so excited to be allowed to read that to the congregation.  Then the psalm.  Then I Corninthians 3: 

Brothers and sisters:
You are God's building.
According to the grace of God given to me,
like a wise master builder I laid a foundation,
and another is building upon it.
But each one must be careful how he builds upon it,
for no one can lay a foundation other than the one that is there,
namely, Jesus Christ.
Do you not know that you are the temple of God,
and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?
If anyone destroys God's temple,
God will destroy that person;
for the temple of God, which you are, is holy.

 

 

I read with an understanding I did not know I had.  I read with a strength I did not know lived inside me, and I read for my friends, who were all hurting from the election results...and other grave personal challenges.  I felt overwhelmed to bring them a message of peace and consolation...which was right there on the page in front of me.  Could they hear in my voice my great love for them? Did they understand? I will never know.

But I smiled, because God gave me the chance to try. 

I hugged my two women friends after Mass. One have given me the Eucharist, the other shared the chalice...did they know my joy?  Did they know how much they minister to me, every day, as I stuggle with my ups and downs, my holding ons and my letting gos?  I wonder if they knew how grateful I was for them, as I was so grateful for Charlotte, nearly 30 years ago. 

But, in God's great story, my day was not over. Later, a friend called in despair of the challenges in her life, which were indeed very great...and I was still feeling His power, His energy, inside me. I did my whole active listening thing (you may laugh, but I write like that because I have worked hard to learn how to listen) and then went into friend mode and told her what I thought. (Oh heavens! Should I do that? I never know! I just pray God will smooth out whatever I screw up!)

And then it hit me, she needs to know the verses, too.  She is a temple of God, the spirit is dwelling in her...and that important passage: "If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy that person."  I took that to mean during Mass, that we all have someone looking out for us, all the time...that we are not alone...and God will be like that strong big brother: if anyone tries to hurt us, He'll be right there...defending us...reminding us of our value as His Children...

 

This is the first Church: we, His people...and the first building was the Lateran Basilica. Perhaps the building held the Tabernacle...but as we grow into God's love, we become the Tabernacle, the Holy of Holies, where God resides. And God will always protect His own...

 

I needed to know that this week.  I'm far from figuring out how I am going to do the things I have to do, but I have been made aware again that I don't have to be finished or complete to be a blessing.  And my friend calmed down...because I listened...and because I had people enter my life to teach me how to calm down...so that eventually

 

we all can listen to Him, where He tells us one more time:

 

I loved you first.

 

Love, Cindy