Christmas Solitude

I never thought I would be blogging on Christmas Day. However, like so many of my days, this one has not panned out as planned.

Last night, Noelle and Doah came to the mission church to sing carols and attend the Christmas Eve mass which is always beautiful in our old mission where the structure is a bit more sophisticated than a barn might be, thanks to some primitive frescoes, the paintings of the stations of the cross up and down the aisles, and, behind the altar, the inset statues of nine saints who are locally important to us. At the same time, one has only to look down to see animal footprints pressed into the floor as the earthen tiles were drying 200 years ago.

My view of the mass differed from the usual since normally I sit near the back of the church but with Noelle present needed to sit up front where there is space for wheelchairs. As Fr. Ed stopped partway down the center aisle to place baby Jesus in the creche, we could see that Suli, the feral white cat adopted several years ago by the parish, had curled up beside the sheep and was sleeping, oblivious to what was happening around her. Later, during Fr. Ed's homily, when the unheated church had been warmed up by the tightly packed congregation, she awoke, sauntered down the aisle, and brushed past Fr. Ed, who included her in his homily. Then, tail held high, she danced past the dozens of poinsettias and candles surrounding the altar and out of the church through the sacristy door. Suli is a great reminder of the Franciscan founders of the mission.

After mass, Donnie took Noelle home, her medical needs not permitting her to stay overnight, and I tumbled into bed after a long day that had included eight hours of highly stressful crises at work followed by the beautiful but late evening mass.

When I woke up this morning, a cold of some import clutched me tightly, making it difficult to crawl out from under the warm covers. Unfortunately, having a cold precludes me from participating in Christmas dinner with Shane and Lemony, our new tradition since the kids grew up, because Nikolina's health is still too fragile for exposure to external germs. Home for Christmas took on a new meaning today.

Donnie and Doah (called by some "Me and Mini-me") pranced out the door in their in look-alike Santa hats several hours ago, and I have been left alone with the cats: Murjan, Intrepid, and Simone. Pre-conversion, being alone would not have been a desirable state for this extrovert. The reason I have disliked assignments to megapolises has been because I generally feel alone in a crowd in these places. There is a very special kind of loneliness that comes from being surrounded by people who neither know you nor care about you. Nowadays I find solitude to be a gift for when I am by myself I am rarely alone. At those times, whether it is in a crowded airport or here at home with sleeping cats, God is palpably with me. Solitude at home is even more special because it means I can spend time in contemplative prayer, which I did today. I did not feel alone even for one minute today; I had the best visitor possible. So, I have had a very blessed day, dressed in the infamous pink pajamas that I wore to a business casual party some years ago.

Wishing all of you a blessed Christmas Day and season!

7 Quick Takes Friday #10

Time again already to contribute to the 7 Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary! This time, I will not do a day-by-day review since the days were so full as to blur one into another in retrospect. So, instead, I will share the seven events that I best remember.

(1) Early in the flip between last week and this one, one of the most senior people from headquarters appeared in town without much notice. After an all-day meeting, he left behind a staggering new budget to manage and an overwhelming amount of work, including the need to set up three new branches next month and several more worldwide later in the year and to hire about 100 new people immediately and more later in the year. My head is still spinning; so are the heads of the senior managers to whom I will delegate much of this work. One is currently on Christmas break in Germany; he says he is glad he made it there before all this came down on us. Not to fear -- he will get to share our stress when he returns; we will be sure to save a fair amount for him!

(2) Nathaniel's birthday is Christmas day (December 25). Back in 2001, he was quite a Christmas present! To avoid dividing attention between the two events, Shane and Lemony celebrate his birthday earlier in the month, and he gets to choose the location. This year, we celebrated Nathaniel's birthday this past Saturday, and Nathaniel chose Sapporo Restaurant. He loves sushi and delights in the hibachi cooking.

(3) Sunday was such a restful day, and I needed it! Fr. Kevin, priest at a parish 45 miles north of where I live, teaches contemplative prayer "for busy people" once a month. His deep spirituality and talent at teaching has helped me understand much about my contemplative experiences. We use Ursula King's helpful book, Christian Mystics, but Fr. Kevin's ability to distill essential information from throughout the ages is even more helpful.

(4) Another priest cusped my horizon this week. Fr. Terry called me to thank me for some Russian chocolates I dropped off for him for Christmas and mentioned that he would be leaving the St. Francis Retreat Center in January for a parish about three hours away. Having a big mouth, I spread the word to our prayer group, and, devastated to think that Fr. Terry, who has been a de facto spiritual advisor to many of us and who was instrumental in the establishment of our group a few years ago, would not be in our immediate environs for long, we planned a potluck at my house for him next week. As it turned out, I had misunderstood. (I need to practice speaking English more often.) Fr. Terry was only going to the central-state parish on an interim basis, to fill behind an ill priest. So, now we are all happy -- and we are going to have the potluck, anyway, because we will latch onto any opportunity to let Fr. Terry know we love him!

(5) Our prayer group meeting was curtailed by our parish's penitence service that began a half-hour later that same evening. So, we went to confession as a group. Fr. E had brought in several local priests, including two who speak multiple languages, a necessity in our community. I patiently waited my turn to confess to either Fr. E. or Fr. Terry, when they suddenly walked out, there being more priests than were needed. That left me with a choice of three priests whom I knew only on a hello-goodbye basis, with no idea of what kind of confessors they were. The first one who had an empty chair was Fr. M., our Latin priest. I approached with some trepidation because I barely know him at all but knew him to be traditional and strict. He generally prefers to use the screen, and it was set up in his corner of the church. However, he did not require that of me. (I am not a confessional/screen type.) In fact, he was so gentle and kind that I immediately felt comfortable with him -- and I saw him in a new light. I am so glad that I went and that I had the opportunity to confess to Fr. M.

(6) One evening this week we ran out to a Kohl's store in the nearest large town. We needed some mattress straps. Finding them seemed to be an easy enough task. However, we could find no sales person who spoke English, and I did not know the name of the item we wanted in Spanish. Donnie quickly became frustrated, commenting that this was America, so where were the English speakers?! I lamented the limits of my Spanish! (We are two very different people.) As we walked toward the exit, having given up, we passed a Mexican friend with excellent English. (How does that sort of thing happen just about every time I need it??) My friend told us the name of the item, and that ended that problem. However, along with improving my English, I think I need to improve my Spanish!

(7) Today, when I arrived home, I found a surprise: flowers. Now safely ensconced on a table in Donnie's office where Intrepid, our herbivore cat, cannot eat them, they had been sent from a professor in Michigan, whom I mentored through her dissertation-writing years. She just began a new position this year as an assistant professor, and she wanted to thank me for my support that she attributed to landing her current job. She would have gotten it without my help and with her talent, but expressions of gratitude are always pleasant.

And now, may you find your weekend strewn with flowers!

Monday Morning Meditation #20: Be Not Afraid of Intimacy with God

Continuing through the book of Deuteronomy, I was stopped -- I cannot say that the action was reflexive: I did not stop myself -- and while I could not figure out what I could possibly write for a MMM on the verse, somehow I could not get past the 21st verse of chapter 7: "Thou shalt not be affrighted at them; for the LORD thy God is in the midst of thee, a God great and awful." The verse referred to God's tasking of the Israelites to take on the tribes living in the Promised Land, and I assume the translation of the original Hebrew word as "awful" might be better translated today as "awesome."

Reading: Deuteronomy 7:21

Meditation: For the life of me, at midnight, which is when I usually write the MMM, I could not figure out what the significance of this verse was. I thought about all the times I have championed a minority group or an individual in trouble. "Lord, are you stopping me because there is something important to say about moral courage, about the willingness to take on the tasks that you give, no matter how large, unpopular, or frightening they appear to be?" I asked. That seemed liked a good theme to me, one completely related to what was being asked of the Israelites and one that reflected their seeming state of mind. But no, whenever I started thinking in that direction, I encountered a mental block. So, I asked God to enlighten me while I slept, slipped into contemplative prayer briefly, and then slipped into a deep sleep. (That happens to me often during contemplative prayer, and I just hope that God will take me in whatever way He can get me -- conscious or unconscious!)

When the alarm woke me up this morning, my brain was every bit as addled as the night before although my body was quite rested. I fed the cats while Donnie slept, and then settled into the Jesus prayer that I sometimes use for contemplation, especially in the morning. For me, this prayer is less an action and more a way of being together with God. Usually, very quickly my concentration on words disappears (as do the words themselves), and I find myself in a state of contemplation that is difficult to describe in words.

As happens far too often, as the moment of pure intimacy with God slipped over me, I pulled back, and I instantly realized that this is what the verse I could not get past was saying to me. It had nothing to do with the literal meaning of encouraging the Israelites to be brave, given the presence of God among them. Likewise, it had nothing to do with what I first thought about having moral courage to speak up and take on battles today that challenge unethical, unkind, and immoral situations we find in our lives, given that God will be with us during the battle. That which seemed to make sense is not what was stopping me at that verse but rather a different kind of fear that sometimes creeps into my life: the fear of losing control of my conscious self through greater intimacy with God.

I could guess at the psychological reasons behind my withdrawal from God at the moments of greatest intimacy, and I might actually be right. I wonder how other adults who were physically and sexually abused as children accept spiritual intimacy? When I do fully accept it, I usually find later that I have had tears running down my face. So, I now understand that verse in Deuteronomy not as literal or even parallel to similar situations today, but as allegorical, educating me, in this case, about my own reaction to those times when I am very aware that a "great and awful [awesome] God" is "in my midst." As much as I trust God to take care of my life -- I truly do for He always has -- I sometimes (too often, given all God's kindness to me) throw up a protective barrier when He approaches very, very close. I hope that this interpretation (or allegorical application) of today's verse was meant to be as instructive to others as it was to me, for certainly I have been led to a non-literal understanding, but an important one for me: God in our midst should not frighten us, but encourage us; we should welcome, not reject, God's desire to be in our lives and of our lives.

And that is far as I can go with you on this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to repent for all those times that I have pulled back, to thank God for patience in continuing to bless me with His presence in spite of my reticence sometimes in fully accepting it, especially physically, to give praise for His incredible desire and willingness to be with me/us, no matter how insignificant or even sinful we are (the penitence service tonight will help), and to request God to give me greater trust when it comes to intimacy with Him.

After that, I will again spend some time in contemplation (briefly for I am now working on being late for work, but often in such cases where I have to cut contemplation short, I end up in a contemplative state from time to time throughout the working day, and that, for certain, is not bad).

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Have a good day and a good week, remembering that God is with us always -- and that should bring us not fear but great joy!

Sister M

Yesterday, when I blogged about being a broken vessel, I mentioned how easy it is to fall into the trap of comparing oneself with others, and some readers commented on how I am not the only one who does that, agreeing that we should not although sometimes there are people who can be models for us in their holiness.

For me, there is indeed one: Sister Maria. I am fortunate to have come to know Sister quite well. She lives in the Franciscan Sisters of Atonement convent in the woods overlooking the valley (quite a view from their living room) next to our parish offices and is the nun in charge of keeping everything in order there, something she is very good at. Like most of my other friends, and I do consider Sister a friend, she is considerably older than me: mid-seventies. Sister comes regularly to the prayer group and Bible study group to which I belong, and I benefit from her experience and wisdom. She also teaches catechism, as do I, so I see her (actually, I room with her) at the religious education conferences that we attend for our continued faith formation.

In addition to being a model for me in all her quiet ways, Sister, because of her accepting nature, is the one person in whom I have confided nearly all of my spiritual experiences for which I need greater understanding: the times that Evil seems to attack, the miraculous help and clearly God-sent healings that enter my life from time to time, understanding of prayer (especially contemplation which was my entry point into Catholicism -- Sister says I started backwards from most, who begin with ordinary prayer and work through meditation into contemplation whereas I was hit on the head and surrounded by the presence of God for two full weeks and had to learn later, through RCIA, how to pray the ordinary types of prayer such as thanksgiving and repentance), and more.

The "more" includes those early days when an interim diocesan priest who took over our RCIA group from Fr. Barry, visiting priest and director of St. Francis Retreat Center, waved aside any of my spiritual sensations and interventions as "nonsense." While Fr. Barry was and is always available to me, God bless him, he has been highly occupied with rebuilding the retreat center that had burned down. Valuing his time, I go to him only with the thorny issues. Over 80 years old and having already celebrated 50 years of Franciscan priesthood, he is never surprised -- he has seen it all in his 50+ years of ministry in the Franciscan tradition. Nor does he make me feel awkward or embarrassed. He understands, accepts, and gently guides in a way that has made him my de facto spiritual advisor.

Still, because of the demands on Fr. Barry's time and the abundance of my spiritual encounters and experiences, it is Sister Maria to whom I generally go for interpretation. She not only has time and wisdom for me, but like a true friend and counselor, when she sees that I need reproving, she does not hesitate to speak out. In some difficult moments, when I have not understood what it is God is trying to tell me, she has taken me into the chapel and prayed together with me. Now, there is a true friend! You can probably tell that I love Sister very much. I am highly grateful to God that He has not only surrounded me with priests, each of which has brought something special into my life, but also that He put me in Sister's path and led her to scoop me up and take me along for frequent intervals of her journey. Sometimes she is gone for long periods of time, taking care of God's business and her own ailing sisters, but other times we get long moments together through local religious social events which we attend in tandem with other friends. In addition, a triad of Sr. M, Robert (a spiritual director), and I (the most unlikely of choices except for my extroversion) share responsibility for the leadership of our local prayer group.

Sister M is the most humble person I know and, as a Franciscan and true servant of God, would be quite surprised that I would think of her as a model. Now, if I, in my Franciscan walk as an SFO candidate, could only come close to that! My hope and goal is to some day come close enough to earn the right to profess in the third order. (Regulation-wise, I could have done it already. Spiritually, I need more study and greater humility. And, like most people, I need more time with God.)

God has blessed me beyond anything I have deserved, and my relationship with Sr. M is one of those blessings. May all of you be blessed with someone in your life like my friend, de facto counselor, and model, Sister M, beloved by many, not just by me.

Damaged Vessel

We have no right to compare ourselves to others for God loves each of us just as we are with all our imperfections. Yet, as a relatively new believer, I find that at times I cannot help but compare myself with other parishioners; it is one way in which I learn.

The comparison isn't good. I see around me people who seem more pious and more devoted than I think I will ever be. Although when I first first enter and kneel I feel God's presence so strongly that sometimes I can scarcely move, just a few minutes later I feel my mind slipping away and wonder what it is that keeps me from being as focused as others. (And yes, I do realize that I am probably not entirely alone in this.) Sometimes my focus is pulled away by events in my life that skitter through my brain. Other times, I become so absorbed in enjoying the presence of God that I find myself praying mechanically as I bask in that feeling of love -- a sort of contemplation that blurs out everything and everyone else.

More often than not, I marvel at being in the midst of those who love God and have taken the time to come and tell Him that in the presence of His community. That is when I realize that there is both a spiritual side and a social side to church. While they are intertwined, I don't think the best time for intertwining is during mass.

As these various thoughts swirl around in my mind, I realize from the swirling alone what a broken receptacle I am. I know that God can use all kinds of vessels -- the sturdier ones around me (those people who have spent their lives in the church and done much good in the name of God), the small shiny ones (the little children who have a life of service yet to come), and even the broken ones like me. Truly, I don't know why God entrusts such a damaged vessel as I with any of His tasks, let alone why He clearly selects specific tasks and lays them before me. I am grateful, though, that He does for I enjoy doing them.

Nor do I understand why He floods His enormous love into me when I cannot possibly hold it all; there are too many cracks in me, some possibly from the casting and the rest from a lifetime of rough usage. Again, I am grateful that He does. I sincerely hope that what leaks out through my cracks will be God's love, and that it will splash liberally onto others, both those others whom I admire as examples for my own spiritual development and those others I meet on a daily basis who live on the fringe and need that love so much more than I do.