Theology Question

I went back a little bit in my writings, but I don't think I've written about this yet.
Driving out to Arkansas to sit on the river with a friend, one of the sweet older people I visit calls me. She says, "My husband didn't call you yet, did he?" I reply no.  "Well, then I have to tell you.  That St Joseph statue you bought for us [to help us sell the house]...well, someone in the house broke his head off. "John" was too embarrassed to call you.  Do we need to get another one?  Can we throw it away?  Will a headless St Joseph still help sell the house?"
Mind you, I'm on the road, looking for exits.  Now I'm trying not to laugh too loud.  I'm snorting. How many years of seminary training, counseling, holy listening classes have I had...no one ever came to me with this possibly scenario.

I try to calm her down. No, don't throw what's left away. Try to find the head if you can. I'll buy you another one.

I take the wrong exit. I'm trying to reassure her. I look back at where I was supposed to go and the highway is completely STOPPED.  Major accident. I go another route without any delay in my traveling. "Oh are you on the road?" she asks. "I'll let you go!" We'll talk next week." And I smile about how God does things.

Retelling this story to my priest friend, he laughs and says something like, "Now you know what it is like to be a priest.  You got "the priest question."  These are the kinds of questions that make life interesting: Can a headless St Joseph still sell a house.

And we had a good time sharing stories about some of our work.  The unusual things that cause people to be afraid...and the not so unusual things.

How many times did I have to say "novel" when someone would come to me scared to death that the "Left Behind Series" was true...or that "The DaVinci Code" was true.  Novel, I'd say over and over. It is a story...sometimes it is a good story, but it is not theology.  Unless of course, you consider the idea of novel a theology....

Somewhere in the Old Testament (Hebrew Bible) there is a story of Moses...asking for a sign...if he's going to lead all these people out into the desert, out of slavery...what will be the sign that God is with them...and it is here that I begin to see God's sense of humor.  God essentially says that "the sign will be the sign."  Which is just about as funny as "I will be who I will be." Yud-hay-vav-heh" In other words...my name is "I am." (Huh?) That's my name. I exist. That's all you need to know. Argh.

Burning bush, indeed. Take off your shoes, you are entering holy ground. Humble thyself in my sight...you ain't in charge. But I invited you here, so quit sulking and be happy. 

The ever present theological questions of being really Catholic: "Am I doing it right?" 
Most truthful theological answer: No.

We are human. We are finite. We are flawed. We are limited by our senses, our prejudices, our judgments, our selfishness, our hungers. We cannot possibly ever get it right. To get it right, it would declare that we were no longer human.

Only God is right. Only God is perfect.  Only God can work miracles. Only God understands love.  To say that we understand God is a misuse of the word. I claim union with God...I don't expect anyone to believe me. I don't always believe me...but I've had a hint of something amazing, exquisite, perfect...and I want it all the time...it hurts to not have it, but it almost a joyful wound. I just know...that we are more than flesh and blood...and there is a home...a place...a thing different...that will make all this make sense some day. 

I know others know it, too. You see it in their eyes...of maybe you feel it in their presence...these are the things which make saints...the ones who refuse to accept the world as it is and puts us on fire to reach for something better. We want to be around them all the time...we clamor all the way to the edge of the water...we hunger for that which can satisfy us and that alone is God.

So theology is only a means to an end...and can be an obstacle to faith if we worship theology too much. It is a tool, a way to communicate an idea of God...which is not God...but only an idea.

Me, in my woundedness, tried to reason out God. Unmerited suffering forces us into primarily two ways of thinking: 
The world is evil. God is good. Therefore, choose God.
The world is evil. There is no God. The only goal is to obtain power. Through power you can limit the amount of evil forced upon you.
The world is good. God is good. If bad happens to you, you are evil and must be punished.
The world is good. You are good. You have been hurt without reason, therefore God does not exist. We are all navel lint. Nothing we do matters. So celebrate your consciousness while you have it.

I was wrong about the two ways...

The point being...in my existence, I know God. And many others seem to also.  There are good ways and bad ways of expressing our love for God. A broad spectrum of rigidity and permissiveness that can distract us from the real thing.

There is no way to know when we are fully right or wrong. Not until later...that is...and perhaps we will all be so surprised by what we find...

But for now, we've just got to love, in all the ways we can, truly, madly, deeply...and treat with tenderness the theological questions we ask each other. Does God hear my prayer more clearly if I light a candle?  Does God grant my prayer request if I have a thousand people praying through emails with me for the same thing?  Did I really forgive my brother? My mother? My father?  Does God really forgive me?  What have I done that has hurt someone else?  How will I know?  Can St. Rita save my marriage? Can St Joseph help me sell my house? 

Ah, well...only you know the answers to these questions. What does your heart tell you?  In there, you will find what you need. God gave it to you long before you were born. Listen to your heart.  God is there, waiting for you to ask your question.

Love, Cindy

Qualified

Notes from last week:
I am forever facing a certain kind of problem. I am aware of the good that I get to do. I don't really take credit for it, I know that everything I do...well...perhaps 97% of what I do, is what I really believe God is doing through me.


Yet doubt still enters my heart. Yesterday, I found myself in a reasonable place. Not trying, good things happened. The residue of that feeling of "being properly aligned" with God then clouded my work today.   Is it the sin of thinking too much or too little? 


Part of this week was very scary because I heard so much truth. Funny how that unhinges me. So I suppose there are truths that I can tell are ripe, ready to be told...and others still green...not fully understood. I have discovered I feel a bit unsettled hearing those things.


It's not my place to hear certain things. Is that true? If I was in the place I need to be, I would not be hearing them, it would be God...but suddenly I feel aware of the vulnerability of others. Do I serve well my listening? Or does the telling just bring them more pain?  These questions have not entered my thoughts  before. Why are they present now?

The week unfolded and I am still alive.  Each day a surprise that I am still here.  The gifts I've been given are so precious, I always think: Today is the last day I will be able to do this. It's going to end. It has to end. Good things are fleeting...those are the lessons I learned early in life...it is very hard to unlearn them.

So I find myself sitting in a restaurant with one close friend and three new people. They ask me questions...about God. About my theology. I want to stop talking and tell them so. They ask me to continue...and in the midst of the stories, they share their stories...and I watch, being a part of them and yet apart from them at the same time. I stand in the moment and I stand as an observer.  How is that possible?

Not much of me left in here. But I could tell you the faults and weaknesses of which I always aware...they hurt still...when I befriend them, I will write about them. Even as I write that, I see immediately how unimportant they are. Yet I still give them so much power.

You must befriend your demons. The ones that won't go away. The ones you think are impossible to give up. For now, don't give them up, but don't give in to them either. Teresa of Avila writes something about this.  There will always be little lizards and demons wandering around your "prayer space," the trick is to not give them any mind. They will get bored and leave.  Without trying. That's what I have been finding lately.   Spiritual happenings in my life are not ordered or planned. I have surrendered to God and I have no plan anymore other than to say yes each time He asks.   And I will even abandon that plan if it in any way separates me from Him. 

Went home from Oklahoma a different way than they way I planned. The gift was an amazing sunrise over the lake. The timing was perfect. Could not have been planned. Yesterday the light shining on Teresa of Avila in the window...the print I had just purchased...what happened won't happen again.

In reference to answered prayer, I have longed to be at a table of great minds, discussing theology. God gave that to me last night. What I discovered...was that it was somewhat boring. Talking about what other people think/thought about God and analyzing it is not nearly as interesting or as much fun as...shall I call it...a first person experience...of God.

I mean, there are God encounters. That is the first and best...requires no prerequisite experience or education. You know...a burning bush experience...a union...a marriage...a seduction of sorts. That I will call "a close encounter of the first kind...although 'close' is misleading because it is an infused experience of the supernatural.  The second encounter might be a mystical experience that is inspired by the reading of mystical experiences. This is almost as good as the real thing, but, in being motivated by the intellect, it loses some of its flavor. The third kind of experience might be from reading the Word of God, or listening to ecclesial music. A fourth might be through practiced discipline of emptying yourself.  Learning to be still. A fifth encounter could be through the another human being, as simple as eye contact, or as deep as making love...depending on the kind of relationship you have with the other.  And on the outer edge, you encounter God through education...knowledge...reason...logic...sensibility. 

Whatever your catalyst...and I have listed them in a kind of order as the experiences come to and through me...which is not any standard by which to judge your own experiences...I have found the unplanned, unsolicited, unexpected encounter to be the most exciting...and the most wounding...the surprise encounter goes deep...and remains unchained by past, present or future events.

These are the events through which, by your memory of them, will sustain you in the darkest experiences of your life. There will be unexplainable hope in the midst of great suffering. To the level you are willing to die to yourself, it is to that level you will be sustained. 

The more you let go, the more you will have. The more you give of yourself, the more will be given to you. The more you open your heart, the more it shall be filled...by only good things. And you have to pay attention to this work...what I mean, is that you must always know if you are giving from the heart...or from a position of power...or from a desire to acquire power. If you seek something specific, you will be unsatisfied. God will give us what we want...but when we let Him give us what He wants to give us...only then will we feel satisfied.

I suppose I am saying that because I was surrounded by both the intelligent and the simple this week...and I realize that wisdom comes to those for whom God has chosen. Not to those who have the most degrees or to those who desire it most. We can't make it happen....but we can let it happen.

Does this make any sense?

I walked out into the lake last night under a half-moon. No matter how far I walked, I could not capture the moonlight reflected so beautifully on the water...I could have followed it forever...it was so incredibly beautiful, but I could never hold it in my hand. I kept hearing Wynken, Blynken and Nod in my head...sailing off...and I could not go there, no matter how hard I tried. I was created to watch the moonlight, to sing about it and perhaps to write about it...but I will never get to hold it...

To turn my back and return to the shore meant I would not see the light for a time...but I have to live on the shore...it was what I was created for...walking back made me feel so sad. Yet, back on the shore, there was the light again...kind of following along...and it did follow me...like rainbows...no one of us ever sees exactly the same thing...but the moon light and the rain's bow changed us. 

God seems illusive, but that's just because we are still in these human bodies. There will be a day when our bodies will no longer separate us from Him...we will go back to our Creator, changed somehow...more appreciative now perhaps of the union...having been separated for what feels like to long.

You can't really write about that, put it in a book and then memorize it. You just have to do it. Your way. Your time. You are already qualified. Enter the beginnings of bliss...

Love, Cindy

Do it anyway

Today, simple observations.

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus today. A few thoughts about the week. Hospital visits completed, always something new, always surprise, always grace. Tuesday night, ACTS team meeting. Many responses to some small moves, this is often surprising...but at this point in my life, little should surprise me. I simply mean, if you don't expect anything anymore, you really can't be surprised. And yet, you can. I wonder, and very much hope that each day, you reflect on your life. What happened, what was the grace of it, in it, for it?  How have you changed? What do you know now that you did not know yesterday?  Where was the pain? How did you accept it?  Did you let someone down? Did you let yourself down? Did you forgive yourself today? Did you forgive others? Where was the joy?  What was the magic? Where, when and how often, were you grateful?

That's how I survive. Reflection. Growing more honest and real each day.  The illusions, I have found, only bring pain. But it is always important to check out your own perceptions.  Is what you think you see really true?  Is it what you want to see?  Is it what you think you deserve to see?  This is a way to separate illusion from reality. 

How you see often depends on how gentle you are with yourself. I am trying to learn to be gentle with myself. It is exhausting. Old tapes, false realities still haunt me...places I have yet to surrender to God.  But  I improve, each day I grow closer to God.

Pay attention to your life, but do not take yourself too seriously. Yet respect yourself...and respect others. Sounds like old news. But it only took an old friend, who I hadn't seen in years...to nudge me on.  We spent two hours together. The cool thing is that this was an unspoken reconciliation...what we didn't speak of was how we parted years ago.  Time has allowed us to forgive each other. It was a kind of sparkly time. We each had gone off into new directions and we saw the beauty in each other. Only I had to honor the magic of our moments. "Thank you for forgiving me," I told her.  She smiled and hugged me. Neither of us spoke of what was right or wrong, we simply spoke of now. And now was good. A little miracle. One less task for purgatory.

She told me, after a couple of hours, that I needed to write. Even if I did it poorly. She said that was her first feeling when we first made eye contact. My first thought of her was "She has found her beauty." 

What has this to do with the Sacred Heart of Jesus? Last night, I went to Mass at St Jude's.  As soon as I walked into the chapel, I was taken into a bliss...I seemed to be very pleased that they had relocated the crucifix against the wall.  But that was just a noticing thing...what I was feeling...was that it had been too long since I had been to St Jude's.  At least three weeks, with all of my traveling. You know that feeling you get when you are finally home?  That you can breathe again?  That's how it feels when I enter a church. I return to the womb of God and I am bathed in love...the kind that lasts...and is perfect.

That's how I see this Sacred Heart thing.  The Catholic Church has these pictures of Jesus with his heart exposed...and in some ways, especially to non-Catholics, the photo is creepy.  Generally it is surrounded by a crown of thorns.  What I see is a heart exposed. And a heart exposed is easily wounded.

Just like mine. I put my heart out there. I tell the truth as best I am able...and I risk love. Every day.  But not like contemporary "married love," which has a nice little contract in place that says you're going to stay and I'm going to stay...so we are bound by the Law to be faithful to each other. No, this love I throw out is non-contractual. It doesn't expect "benefits." It is just there...and it can be used and rejected and wounded by the risks it takes. That's how I try to model Him.

Think of the first time you fell in love.  Remember the bliss of it, the fantasy of it, the innocence of it.  And how much it hurt when it perhaps didn't work out as you thought it might.  Bit by bit, we protect our hearts with armor...so that 'the next time" we'll know better...we'll be more careful. And nothing will ever compare to that first perfect love.

That's the way Jesus loves us, with a first perfect love...with complete vulnerability and trust. He bares His Heart for us...He loves us so much...that whatever wounds we might have and still hold, His love is so great it breaks through the even hardest of armors. And it is a patient love.  It can wait forever for us to let Him in.

That's how it is for me, walking into a church.  It is as if I am stripped naked and thrown into the pool of pureness of His existence in this world. All my weapons to keep myself 'safe' fall at my side.

There is a scene in the TV show "Saving Grace," where she is arguing with her angel, Earl.  She is making good argument, and Earl just opens his wings and touches her with them, and she falls to the floor in bliss...that is about the best I can do to describe how good it feels to open my heart to God as closely as I can in the manner in which He opens His Heart to me.

I could list off so many moments of love this week...each one a risk...but I won't bore you anymore with the details of my love life...go out and live in your own....

He loved us. We must love others.

I know it's scary.
Do it anyway.

Love, Cindy

Well, are you married or not?

I have this thing I do, which I have put off this June...for a variety of reasons. I am trying to remain open to possibilities. Should I move or should I stay? I have been boring my friends with my laments to find out "what God wants me to do." And I am beginning to bore myself.

We all spent a lot of time thinking about our decisions. Especially ones we think are important. I recall James Finley ( a disciple of Thomas Merton)speaking about decision-making. He said, "to ask the question whether or not God wants me in place A or place B, is  really not that important. Because God is in both places...and if we take on the 'mind of Christ.' it doesn't matter where we are.

But it is so much easier to expend energy on on these 'important' decisions, than to actually DO something. Inaction is one of my talents...and most of my friends allow me to get away with it, and I allow them the same privilege. 

Dorothy Day would have had a fit. Mother Teresa would have given us a good talking to.  We waste so much time on the wrong things.

"I know that you know that I'm not telling the truth.
I know you know that they don't have any proof..."

I love the show "Psych." It's about a guy who observes thing well, but passes himself off as a psychic because..people can believe that more easily than believe he is a person of meticulous detail. We have an idea in our heads of how "the job and the person" fit together. Beautiful people are good. Ugly people are bad.  Priests are men. (sorry, couldn't resist!) Profiling. Just try to tell me you don't do it. Maybe not all the time, but we are all victim to it. Our lives inform our decisions...all the time. It's part of being human.

There is a great big chasm between who we are and who we think we are.  I encounter it daily.  The sad thing is that too often we settle for less. We do less. We believe less.

I have a therapist who tells me that when we think less of ourselves, and speak of ourselves that way, we are trying to manipulate others into making us feel better. Statement: "I'm not very good at [fill in the blank]." Response: "Oh, that's not true!"  Outcome: a couple of seconds of feeling better...for both parties...and then it starts all over again.  But because someone else telling you...some kind of judgment about you...it ultimately totally worthless...

What matters is what you think about what you are doing and why you are doing it. And of course, what God thinks about what you are doing and why you are doing it.

Recently, I have been on both sides of the judgment of others. I have been told I am the greatest thing since sliced bread and I have been told I am the worst thing that ever happened. What I realized finally, as God presented me with drastically different opinions from my peers...was how their opinions ultimately don't matter. That doesn't mean that I don't love them...or disrespect them...I simply don't take their opinions to heart. 

That is the best gift of detachment. To be completely engaged in life, yet not victim to it. To be able to pay attention to being authentic in my actions...and to expect others to be authentic with me. The idea is hardly new. It is all over a great old book: The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis.  Our feelings, while a gift from God, are forever changing. We love one moment, then hate the next. We think we can't live without some man...and then we wonder what we ever saw in him...

I think that the less we trust ourselves...believe in ourselves, the more prone we are to drastic fluctuations of feelings...because we are relying on what others are telling us.  Such a life is exhausting because it changes with the wind.  I suppose it is wildly romantic in some ways...but it is ultimately unsustainable.

We have to believe in ourselves. That God loves us. And will give us the very best in life...if we let Him. Some people learn these things early in life, they have good people around them who don't try to manipulate them or exploit them, or use them...but lots of people miss out on that...and have to acquire it later.

I encountered a lot of lost people last week.  And I encountered a lot of found people, too.  And I could write, and hope to write, about it all later...if I don't forget.

But the marriage question came up more than once in the last seven days. The attendant at the motel kept asking me in disbelief, or rather, kept stating, "You are traveling alone?" "Yes." He probably asked three times. I began to wonder if I needed to acquire a weapon to sleep with.  "But you wear a ring." "Yes." and then I kind of sheepishly say..."I belong to God." And that brings on many different responses from others. This guy asked me to bless him. I stood a bit dumfounded and then thought...okay. So I prayed over him. He wanted a blessing. Then he asked me to kiss him on the cheek. I told him no. Argh...

Grandson, while playing a game, grabbed my hand. "Nana, are you married?" I paused. He's five. "Yes, I am." "Who are you married to?" "Jesus." He smiled. "No, really, Nana...who are you married to?" "Jesus." "But who do you sleep with?" (Oh heavens! I thought...) "Jesus." And he was sure I was teasing him.

There are so many reasons for why I am doing what I am doing. And telling people just makes it so confusing for them. I belong to no Order, nor have I made any public proclamation...and in these past few months, I realize how it can all be so misunderstood...and I don't want to manipulate people and I don't want them to manipulate me.  I just know that, as I choose this life, this lifestyle...I get to part of something wonderful.   I get to do very special, very sacred, very holy work.  I am aware when it is good and when it is bad.  And strangely, I never feel the dissatisfaction I felt a year ago...and I don't feel the need for approval anymore.

I sat with a priest friend last week. As we talked, I began to know deep inside, I didn't need anyone to tell me that I was good anymore. I finally knew it in my bones. I enjoyed his company very much, but I did not try to saddle him with the job of making me feel adequate, useful or approved. I knew...and he knew...I am living the life I have desired for so long.

Yes, it would be nice if certain things could happen, but they are not needed or necessary for what must happen next. If I lost my friends, I would be sad, but I know I will find others. It is a perfect truth.  Not my will but yours. If you really believe it, you will find peace.

It's taken a long time to get here. And I still have so far to go.

I write these words to encourage you to find your true self. It is impossible to do without God, though. But trusting in humans...in the manner in which you should trust God alone...will bring pain eventually.  That sounds harsh...and who knows, I may change my mind as I grow into this. But trying to please your parents, or your boyfriend, or your husband...so that they will love you more or better or deeper...is an empty pursuit. But it does occupy the time. It uses up life...and allows us to hide from the person God created us to be. I am not in any way suggesting that you love others less...but that you grow to into love that does not keep score, or manipulate, or possess, or control...rather you love in a way that sets the ones we love free...a love that builds up and does not tear down.  It plants, it grows. And it definitely does not make us tired.

Am I married? Yes. Will I enter an earthly marriage again? That question doesn't matter now. That's a future question. But I must remain open to whatever God offers me. I cannot say never.  Will I move south? Or north? It doesn't matter now.  But it is important to be able to move if He asks me. Will I keep doing the work I'm given? Of course. Will I stay connected to others? It is part of the covenant.

If I didn't write it well, may God clarify the broken parts for you. 

My children will be as numerous as the stars of the sky...

Love, Cindy

Fire and Rain

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy."
Stupid Hallmark commercials.
I remember all the planning and creating and cooking I used to do for Mother's Day, Father's Day, their birthdays, anniversary...in the beginning, surveying the pantry to see what kind of 'surprise' I could come up with with what was there...and then later, grocery shopping.  Setting out candles, making cards by hand, planning how things would happen...and my father seemed to like the fuss well enough, but my mother could never just say thank you. She always pointed out the mistakes...she was just being helpful, you know.   I kept trying to get them to love each other, forgive each other...just be nice for a while.
No Hallmark commercial...ever.

So why then, the first Father's Day after my father died, did I stand in front to the stupid Hallmark cards and the store and cry like I had never cried before? 
It was deep regret. There were no more chances to fix it, no more opportunities to love, forgive, hope, touch...it was all done. And what it was, it was.

I'm not sure why I am writing that...except that something must have triggered it. The priest in Texarkana yesterday was delightfully relational.  The 'real' church was completely gutted, in reconstruction process. The mass was being held in the school building. Folding chairs, in the lunch room.  Small group...perhaps 200 people on a Saturday night. The priest acknowledged anniversaries then called attention to visitors. I had already met several before Mass and they all took the opportunity to point to me...all of them!  He asked me why I was there, who I was visiting...and only then did I realize how strange it was for me, while driving home from Arkansas...just had to find a church because I knew it was time for Mass.  (I didn't say that of course, I just waved.)  Then the priest looked around the room and his eye caught someone else..."I don't know you," he said.  And the couple kind of looked at each other...and then waved hello to the priest.

The priest spoke to a lot of things during his homily.  I took notes, (borrowed a pen from the woman on my right, the woman on my left was the mother of a priest just assigned to Hot Springs...she was so happy for him) but right now, I'll tell you about one part:  He spoke about eagles and chickens.  (He also spoke about how he thought football was foolish...he's not "American" but that will be for another post)

Chickens and Eagles. He asked, 'Who knows why the eagle was chosen as the bird for out country?'  Because it soars. And in America, the people of this country were people who wanted to soar. I saw so many beautiful birds on my trip, colors and sizes...near and far away...one brown hawk so big and so close to my car, I almost pulled off the road to see if he would come back...and one eagle...near the wedding chapel I stopped at to take a photo...just amazing these birds. Eagles soar.

Then he talked about chickens. Chickens don't fly.  They stay close to the ground. He said that's where we get the expression of calling someone a "chicken."  They are refusing to risk. They are refusing to fly. They are refusing to soar. 

He admonished his congregation:  "I don't want to see any chickens here." 

He explained that as we receive the Holy Spirit, we should be caught on fire.  Excited to share our faith with others, and how it urges us to do good...and he explained what the good looks like.  And he told them, "When I run into you at Walmart, I will ask you what I talked about today...and you need to remember more than the joke. This parish needs to move forward"...and he went on...but I'll stop here for the moment.

Rain---the cleansing power of our baptism, the bonding of us to a family
Fire---the food that gives us the ability to love

There is just so much still on my mind. So much not yet made clear.  But it is important to accept these gifts of fire and rain...to receive the gifts God gives us, both a reminder that we are never alone and that we are called as Christians to receive and give love. BOTH. Remember that. Be not too proud to receive...and be not too proud to give. 

Because there will be a time and a day when you won't get any more chances.  You'll have to say, "This chapter is over." Death comes to all of us. It doesn't have to turn out the way you want...but you must try, you must offer, you must reach out...climb until you cannot climb anymore. And if someone offers to carry you...let them.  Love is unending...and is not selfish or possessive.  Give and receive. Fire and rain. Over and over again. While you can. Because you can.

Come Holy Spirit
Fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love
Send forth your Spirit and she shall be retained
And you shall renew the face of the earth...

Love, Cindy

God Magnet?

 Started this last week...before my trip.  Much happened after this, also before trip. But I need to post it now...things are getting so busy and complicated again...too much for one entry.  My love to you all. Thank you for being there, not walking away. I expect things to change a lot soon. Already much has happened. No matter what, remember God wins.


Had my wonderful flying dream last night. The power lines that are always there, were ever present, at least four layers deep and so close together, if I flew, I knew that my body would have to hit some of them. But I had been wandering around a house...with lots of wood paneling (another recurring theme) and there was a woman I met who could grow chamomile (herb) in the back yard really well.  She made tea from it every day.  All the chamomile I planted died in the heat, I told her, but I could grow rosemary.  There were children everywhere. Laughing, playing, running around in circles. Other things happened in the house, pleasant thing...but when I put my hand on the head of a male friend, to pray for him, he recoiled and went away.  I was sad, He needed a blessing, he seemed to ask for a blessing...but he refusal to receive it from a woman made me angry.  So I walked over to the double doors and flung them open. It was night, there were clouds...I shouted out to him, "Watch me!" And everyone else in the room turned to look, except him...and from the patio outside the double doors...I flew.  I saw the layers of wires, but I was angry and I wanted to get away. I charged right through them and one caught me on the shoulder and it stung terribly, but I was too angry...I flew so hard and fast that I pulled the stinging wire along until it broke and fell to the ground.  I looked back at the house far below.
"Oh, that's how you do it." I thought.


It was a wild night of dreams in my new bed...images of struggle and love and power, of disappointment and envy just pure innocent joy. Brought on, now doubt by the events of the day.


I went swimming in the deep end yesterday. I was both chaplain and pastor yesterday. And I was just me. Started the day at St. Marks. I had to go to Mass because I was officiating at a funeral down at Restland. I think perhaps it was the third time I've been asked in just over a year. At the first one, maybe 18 months ago now, the family was fallen away Catholics. They liked my style. Wanted me to do the service. One priest said don't do it. The second said go for it. So I consulted a third...he said yes do it, and explained to me carefully how to do it, so that I was following Catholic rules that honored my faith tradition. So I was asked again and bowed out. I was a coward.  Still struggling.
Then there are the weddings. I am flattered when asked. I smile and accept the compliment, but that request is much easier. I consider marriage a Sacrament. I cannot give them that gift because I am not allowed. It is easy, also because I do not care for weddings anyway. For me, a wedding should be a true covenant...and all the silliness about gowns matching the church carpet just wear me out...but still, it is nice to be asked.  
recently a friend asked me to do the funeral/memorial. That is different that someone in the hospital who happens to take a shine to me because I got to play the hero for a few minutes. And I said yes.Then I found out the person who died was a Mason also.


I thought, oh heavens, I already said yes. Knew the Church did not like the Masons, but didn't know why.  Knew my son had serious issues with the Masons. But as it happened, only minutes after I got the request and said yes, I spoke to a wise priest who thought a moment and then said, "Corporal acts of mercy. Bury the dead."  It is what we are to do as Christians.  The family was clearly not Catholic...and no license is required to do the work, no papers to sign.
Then he looked at me again and said, "You really are a God magnet." He has said it before. I honestly still don't understand what he means.


So I did the service for the family. I read the rituals of the Masons, which was to be inserted into the middle of the service, don by the Masons.  They referenced both Old and New Testament.  I paid attention, in case some day I might get asked to participate in a non-Christian service someday. I realized there was nothing in there that was remotely sacrificial...that Christ was quoted, but the idea of sin was non-existent. I had to be careful with my words. The priest said be a witness to your own faith Cindy. Evangelize. And it was a long night. My son left me a message that was the most helpful in his description of what the Masons are and what they believe. My little boy, what a fine man he has become.


The service went well enough. I was transported back into my days as a pastor. Sitting in the little room behind the pulpit, I remember it all...and how different I felt then, how confident and sure I was then...and how I was sweating today.  The question is, of course, why?


And that will take time to answer. My theology includes an omnipotence, omnipresent and omniscient God.I am confident that, if I screw up, He takes care of it. That is he more powerful that any denominational roadblocks we can throw at Him. There may be fallout from where I went and what I did, but God knows my heart, knows of my love...and it is only His Judgment that matters.


I just kept thinking about it all. I spoke with a different priest after Mass about it, and he told me that the Masons killed Catholics mercilessly. The energy in his eyes was strong. And my gut thought was, all the more reason to love them. Love our enemies. Frankly, when betrayal arrives...it will be our friends who will wound us the most deeply...as I have recently experienced.


All the suffering...could be avoided, but is not...is a result of sin...our own and others. We are not only caught in the consequences of our own sin, we are caught in the sins of our brothers and sisters...it's that "one Body in Christ" thing:  when one suffers, we all suffer. When one rejoices, we all rejoice.


So I did the service. I did it okay.  That's the best I can say. I was asked. I tried.  A friend who does not believe in God as I do, trying to be respectful to him while respecting myself was exhausting.


From there to noon Mass, which brought its own surprise gifts. There I learned that initial judgments and conflicts are never permanent. And that gave me hope that perhaps, the events of the spring might heal. They should heal, if we are all following our Christian beliefs. But it takes two. Noon Mass proved to me that I am detaching well...or better...than in the past. I believe that all of us are better off when we practice humility...I am a work in progress. Just as soon as I do it right, I'll do it wrong.


But God wasn't finished with me for that day.  I had a strategy meeting with a friend with brought other blessings and perspectives. And laughter to break up some of the stress of the morning.  Went hoe and had my ice cream float with blueberry soda. Then I got called to the hospital for a need. Not a death, exactly, but a tragedy. Spent at least a hour in the chapel with a couple of people. I listened, I prayed. I held hands. And somewhere in the back of my head, I began to realize again...all my suffering, my pain, the betrayals and abandonments...I survived them...because someone was there for me. Someone who didn't judge, just listened, gave me a glass of water and maybe a sandwich and said "tell me all about it." I lived through it. I'm still here.


And the suffering just goes on and on. It never stops...and we each have to do our part or it all falls apart. One person at a time. One glass of water at a time. One sandwich.  We don't take on more than He gives us, but we don't turn our back on our brother either. If we are too full, too tired, too angry...we find someone else to play Simon for us...carry the cross...not all the time, but just long enough for that person to catch his breath, remembering that there will be times when we need someone to carry our cross....just for a little while.


In the midst of suffering...thinking about the Stations...we encounter betrayal, we are given a cross to carry, we meet our family and our friends along the way, someone helps us carry our burden, someone wipes our face, someone offers us a drink. Each step, we get to choose if we will let them help...and if it really is help...


Must post and finish later. Important ideas...but only four hours of sleep last night and a very long day today.  Cooked chicken breasts, sauteed green beans and roasted garlic potatoes for friends tonight.  It was fun. More later. Thank you for being patient with me.

Love, Cindy

I have told you this so that you may not fall away.

From about a week ago, the bold is today.

At Sunday Mass two weeks ago, Fr Kelly said something important in his homily that explained the Gospel of John to me in a new way.  I love the Gospel of John more than any other book in the Bible. I love the metaphor and the theology...where time is irrelevant and God is the light of the world.
But Fr Kelly made an observation, in the ways in which Jesus spoke His words...Jesus kept repeating the same idea over and over, in several ways...
Fr Kelly said that no doubt the disciples were in shock when they were told what was going to happen next. That perhaps, in the reception of bad news, they remained in disbelief. If Jesus was really God, then what is this business about suffering and dying?  No God suffers and dies. It made no sense.


How can I have cancer? I never smoked.
Why was she killed by a drunk driver? She was so very good.
What do you really mean, "never walk again?" 
Are you sure?


Bad news is not easy to hear. Sometimes we need a helper. That's why they call a chaplain into the room as the doctor tells a family bad news. Someone there to listen, someone to get the facts straight...just in case.


I did it just today. Facing my own demons, I was given a task to do. All I could feel was hurt inside. I knew that if I opened the door again to my past, it wasn't done...and would never be done...but I had to open it so that its secrets would not control the choices I needed to make now. 
But I could not remember what she told me. I had to call her and ask again. And this time I wrote it down.  Each time I see her, she says, "Well, are you coming back?"
She knows it hurts to heal. She reminds me each time I visit that I have a choice. I don't have to do this work anymore. Yet I come back. Back into the cave where the the rules of the games don't work. Where the difference between truth and illusion are exposed.  Where it hurts like hell...mostly because the other pain...the pain of illusion...has just grown so comfortable because it has been around to very long.  We get used to bad food, bad health, bad behaviors, bad movies...because we let them into our lives...and they become familiar. Then we forget what good really looks like and feels like...and happiness...these days bought with a pill, when in earlier days, was bought in the realization of gentleness and kindness given and received.


He told us what was good. What would make us happy. What would make the world a better place...we just forgot...we forgot to remember. And now we are sad and disillusioned and we don't understand why. 


So many changes during this year. Some friends have grown closer and some have fallen away.  Hopes for a good job were dashed. Health issues improved somewhat...truths have been told, some in cruelty and others in kindness...but each day I look assess what has been given and what has been taken away...and I learn to say "thank you" to God for both. 


I have been betrayed, lied to, injured, disappointed, violated, marginalized and dismissed...
I have also been cherished, loved, appreciated, received and encouraged...


It is just the way things are. In the extremes of the good and the bad, it is easy to forget what He told me. That I needed to stay connected, that I needed to listen for His voice, remain in His light and celebrate His presence.


Because when He leaves, I will feel abandoned...there's no getting around it. And He tells me
Do it anyway. Love them. All of them. Now. While you can. And love yourself.

Love, Cindy