This bread shared…
Wonder
Last week I had the opportunity to glimpse my 3rd grand child. I was invited along to the doctor visit to see the ultrasound. 10 weeks. About the size of a prune. Little heart beat visible. Itsy waved little arms around. You could pick out arms and the beginnings of fingers. Little legs.
Wonder. That’s the only way to describe my reaction. Wonder! This event went well beyond anything I could have anticipated. The only other time I remember something similar was standing on the south rim of the Grand Canyon and understanding the definition of “breathtaking.”
How seldom we experience real wonder. This is not an emotion that can be called up at will. To me, it’s a gift. In those moments of watching that black and white image on the screen and absorbing the reality that I was seeing a new life — that he was moving around with a beating heart and tiny fingers — I felt that God was standing with me, delighted in all She saw. In the days since, I have been brought back to that place again and again. A line from a song we use at church rolls through me – “For the wonder of who I am, I praise You.” It’s like, well, I begin to comprehend at a deeper level those words that I mouth – “I am loved. We are wonderful creations.” Even – “Jesus died for me.”
The only explanation I have is that this in this moment of wonder, the world was stripped away and I became aware of being in the presence of God. And that changes everything. That is the beginning of prayer.That is the place where my heart can be open and can be changed.
I read back over this and I fear I have babbled. And in some ways, I’m sure I have as there are no words to really wrap around the experience. And so, I’ll just leave the words as a pointer while I return to just be in that place again for a bit.
Amen.
Why Catholic?
I’ve been sitting with Susan’s post over on Creo en Dios — and considering how her words adapt to my reality. We come to this place from different roads. She was a cradle Catholic who left God and the Catholic Church, and returned. I started life in a Calvinist protestant environment (Presbyterian/Southern Baptist), made a choice in my teens to actually be a Christian, and by some twist of faith found my home the the Catholic Church.
I’m not so good at words as Susan but I get some feeling that we are trying to somehow explain similar feelings about this whole Catholic issue. The Church is Home. It is at some level Family. I disagree with many statements that come from Rome and USCCB. I cringe at many behaviors exhibited by those entrusted with the care and feeding of the members (I mean “care and feeding” in both physical and spiritual terms); I get ready to pack my bags and make my exit.
And then I stop.
“Where are you going?”
“Away!”
“Away to what?”
“Just away! Where I don’t have to put up with this hypocritical stupidity and corruption!”
“And where is that?”
At this point, I pause again. I cannot go. I came to this church primarily because of a certainty that the Mass, the Eurcharist, holds a lot more in it than my upbringing allows it to hold. That idea was both attractive and frightening.And it called me to “come” – not “go.” I have experienced the touch of God in Reconciliation.
And so, I stay. This is my home and family, warts and all. Not perfect. Sometimes grand, sometimes downright pathetic. There are many times I have to look beyond the visible manifestations of this Church and find the heart of it. I, like Susan, cannot for sure always say that I “need” to be Catholic, and for many of the same reasons. But, I am.
Witness
I’ve listened to a couple of friends lately as they reflect on changes and calls. They are truly witnesses to me.
I see faith and commitment in one of them as he reflects on possible changes in his life. He struggles with his feelings. He tries to make lemonade. He always amazes me with his ability to be where he is — truly be there and be quite happy doing whatever it is. He makes really great lemonade.
I see faith and wonder in another friend as she copes with answered prayers… “Be careful what you pray for, because you just might get it” she told me the other day. I see her joy mixed with awe and at times almost confusion as she deals with a spouse who has recently been touched deeply by God.
I see faith at work in a coworker as he tries, and succeeds in not stomping out of a session with another coworker. It takes great patience to stay positive in the presence of this difficult personality. He works very hard to see the positive in the situation. Me? I might get through it, but I also might explode and get myself fired.
My friends are not trying to “witness” to me. At least I don’t think that’s the case. They are simply trying to answer a call. They are walking this road with me, and by do that, and sharing the joys and sorrows found on the way, they offer a living witness of faith.
Thanks guys. I love you all.
Sleepless – not in Seattle
Tonight is one of those where my mind doesn’t seem to want to shut down… I’m pondering many things, for no know reason.
It’s one of those nights when I consider my faith – what it is and what it is not. I wonder at why I believe at all. I wonder what I believe. It’s such a mystery.
Do I believe that Jesus died for me? Well… yes, I think so. But, it’s not a powerful, overwhelming thing. I know that my life is richer, fuller and just generally more livable because I accept to some degree that God love me for who and what I am — warts and all.
Do I believe that Mary had only one child? Maybe, maybe not. The devout and conservative members of my Church probably would not be pleased to hear that. But, really – it just doesn’t matter to me. That she said “yes” to becoming the mother of Jesus – that she said “yes” to those things that God asked of her – that matters. Whether or not she had other children ad even whether or not the Holy Spirit was assisted by Joseph matters not to me.
Tonight is a night where I wonder why I claim to be Catholic – or even Christian at all. And does it matter? This is not a great distressed cry. It’s more of an introspective look at myself and the world/universe around me. I come up with some interesting answers. Yes, I am a Christian — not because of the words of the Bible so much as the Word of God — shared with me by my brothers and sisters who also walk this way of life. The Scriptures are the witness of those who came before us. But what touches me more deeply are the words of John, Susan, Jack, Manda, Sandra, Rosie, Frances, Marty… the list goes on. The works of those around me touch me. And I know that there is more here than meets the physical eye.
I could go on and on and on — I believe that I must practice forgiveness. It’s hard to do, but it certainly makes life a lot easier in the long run. I believe that my vocation is to love, not be judge and jury. That leaves me free to really enjoy folks for who they are. That gives me the space to take the not-so-great parts along with the wonderful parts. That let’s me laugh at myself and with my friends.
And, on this restless night, I find I must remember that God has tried to answer two of my long standing prayers: I have long prayed for gentleness of spirit and to be able to “be” instead simply doing. Occasionally, I actually experience these states of being. And they are good.
And so, I shall get myself a drink of water. I shall sit quietly and make my peace with the day that has gone by. And, I will praise the Lord that I was created with the freedom to question all things.
‘night.