Love You. Trust You. Look to You. Rely on You.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Good afternoon, Father. Thank You for this beautiful day that You’ve given us in Your mercy and Your delight.

My daughter continues to be sad about her favorite pet’s and other’s recent deaths in her life and she’s still suffering from the flu. Now upon her return to work, she is feeling as thought she’s still ‘running on empty,’ emotionally, and very unappreciated and taken for granted.

And she probably is being taken for granted. Poor sweet girl. You know what’s going on, don’t You, Father?

So, what is the message You’re sending her? Can I help carry it to her for You? I felt at Mass this morning as though I had an insight from You that might be helpful for her. If it is Your will that I should talk with her about this, please help me to recall and recapture the thread and then, to find a way to express it to her that is pleasing to You and that resonates with her.

I tried to think about what You want for her to understand. It seems as though life has been piling an extraordinary number of challenges on her lately. At the same time, I feel as though there’s always a message from You somewhere in the midst of our strife — similar to the pony in a room full of horse manure — and maybe that’s the analogy that will resonate with her. She’s familiar with this story from childhood.

Where’s the blessing for her in all that has gone on in her life over the last several weeks?

I considered this morning that if I were to name my daughter’s greatest passion in life (so far), it would have to be service and caring for those too weak to care for themselves…animals being somewhere near the top of her list. She has always wanted to do things for people and she has always cared about rescuing people and animals in trouble.

I don’t think her motivation starts out being service or rescue in order to be recognized as a server or a rescuer. But like so many of us, when the recognition of our good works doesn’t come, the gratitude for our help isn’t expressed, we can become disappointed, dis-spirited. Not only that, but later, when we need others’ help in return or the understanding of another or just someone’s patience while we make our way through our own misery and sorrow, then, when our favors are not reciprocated, resentment and anger can well up in us.

Often, since we didn’t give or serve or rescue or exercise patience for the sake of recognition in the first place, the anger and resentment are followed quickly by guilt for being the one needing another’s understanding,…and yet…sigh.

It’s a nasty circle of neediness and dependence, Father. You understand. You’ve watched this tendency in us humans to look to other humans for our sense of well-being. It’s been like this ever since You created our first parents and they failed You in the garden. But today, even as You promised them back then, we have only to lift our eyes to You to find You watching us. We only have to call on Your name to be reminded that You know and see everything we do — each act of kindness, each act of forgiveness, each act of patience, each act of service in aid of another — You see it all and You bless us each time with Your love and Your comfort.

So why, right now, are You allowing her to feel so unappreciated, such sadness?

Is it Your way of helping her to lift her eyes to You? To seek only Your appreciation, Your blessing. To recognize that the only faithful, constant, true love we will ever experience is Your love, the love You have for us. To know, with everything that we are, that it is You who sends us out into the world, to serve You, Lord, as You bless others through our actions and our words.

Yours is the blessing, not ours. It is You who gives, You who serves, You who forgives. We are only Your vessels through which You act here on earth. So often, Father, others whom are blessed by You through us do not even realize they’ve been blessed. They may even think they deserve all that they’ve received from us. But still it’s Your blessing, Father, not ours. Yours to give. Yours to judge. All Yours.

So, are we to simply act to allow Your blessings to flow through us without any attachment to the quality of others’ reception, any expectation of a favor returned?

Yes, I think so. If they appreciate us, so be it. Glory to You, Lord.

If they do not, no worry, no shame. We have already received our reward by virtue of allowing You to break into our lives and to use us.

Our reward is Your presence here with us as we follow our passion — in M’s case to serve and to rescue.

In Your compassion, Father, — literally translated as You being with us in our passion — You are with us, around us, walking next to us, helping us to carry our burdens (all the elements of our passion — our fervor, our joy, our rage, our misery, our sorrow, our ecstasy, our suffering), helping us to carry the crosses of our passion.

What I sense You wanting her to understand — because she is so close now to lifting the veil that obscures Your beautiful mystery — is that You’re right there with her. All the time with her.

She has only to look up with her spiritual eyes, to clear the film blurring her spiritual vision and there’ll You’ll be: arms out-stretched, longing to enfold her in Your warmth and Your loving embrace, excited to explain to her all the ways in which You are calling her to Yourself, all the ways in which You envision using her here on earth in service to You, aching to share in her pain — for that’s what passion is really, isn’t it, Father? pain? When others ignore her or disregard her service or her contributions or her insights or when they scold her for her goodness or try to entrap her in their lies and misrepresentations, just as they did with Jesus, Your Son, when he walked here on earth with us — aching to help her know how very good and beautiful she is, how beautiful her heart is in Your sight — both in our physical reality and in Your spiritual sight.

Your way is so simple, Father, yet so difficult: Love You. Trust You. Look to You. Rely on You.

And when people here on earth don’t respond or worse, respond in hurtful ways, we must turn to You again and again and yet again. Love You. Trust You. Look to You. Rely on You.

All is Yours, heavenly Lord. All goodness, all righteousness, all beauty, all truth. Thank You for allowing us to share in this spiritual reality with You, Father, and to come finally to rest in You, to come finally to find our peace in Your grace.

I pray all this in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Thank You, Father.

Thanksgiving trepidation

Thank You, Father, for being here with me this beautiful day. I want never to take You for granted, Lord, for all the beautiful days that You provide me, in Your mercy, especially this time of the year. And yet, I invariably do.

Give me, I pray, holy Lord, a spirit of perpetual thanks and gratitude for all Your tender mercies.

We are now well into the season of Thanksgiving — always one of my favorites — for the food and festivities and family, certainly, but in more recent years I feel increasing gratitude for the relative simplicity of the holiday. It’s one of spirit-filled gift-giving — gifts of gratitude for the simpler, more basic blessings of our lives and our liberty and our love for You above all and in all things.

We have been invited to share this year’s feast with our neighbors, writ broadly. Our hosts have included the woman who sold us her house several years ago. Knowing that she apologized to everyone in the neighborhood for selling her house to us, due to her perception of our political beliefs, (which she perceived to diverge from hers and supposedly theirs), I am feeling some trepidation about the whole affair, Father.

At the same time I am most of the way through a book about St Monica. She lived her life in humble service to You, Father, among people who were openly hostile to her and her beliefs. Throughout, she maintained a sweet, caring attitude of service, praying continually for each of them.

Juxaposed, these two — Thanksgiving feasts with people of largely alien beliefs, some of whom would speak harshly, judgmentally of us, and St. Monica’s life example — I am humbled by the challenge You’ve placed before me. To my likely discredit I am heartily tempted to ‘call in sick’ and avoid the whole affair.

But I also “know” that You are guiding me into this situation if I choose to follow; to help me learn how to BE: to be the person You created me to be; to be humble and kind and prayerful and loving; to be open to Your grace and to all those Christ-like qualities that are good and true…qualities that I most often forget within minutes of turning away from this writing/meditation place with You, much less by the time I’ve walked out the door and into the world.

My divinity in You, Holy Lord, is fragile. As I try to speak, my words sometimes just spew out without conforming to Your grace — a sort of ‘oral incontinence.’ Please help me, I pray, Holy Lord, to contain my words until they can find their form in You. Help me to appreciate silence and gentleness and acquiescence and to allow these three to overcome what can so easily turn into cynical, sarcastic cheap shots that might evoke a laugh or even two, but which carry no blessing.

Help me, Father, to hear the higher meanings and purposes hiding in other’s comments, so I can use these to lift us all up. Help me to hear with Your ears, Father. Help me to learn these others ways to be. Or help me to keep silent, to learn that I don’t have to speak … or even respond … even if I’m questioned. (How do people do this? How did St. Monica?) Silence is a very difficult response for me.

Only with Your help and Your grace can I learn this lesson, Father.

You’ve placed this challenge in front of me this coming week. Am I ready, do You think? Knowing is so different than doing.

Thank You Father for hearing my prayer. Please bless my way.

Yours first, holy Lord, Your voice and teaching. Then I’ll go help Martha in the kitchen.

My Dear Lord,

I have felt great sympathy for Martha (Luke 10:41) over the last week. I tried to take the time to sit at your feet as Mary did, listening for Your voice, and reading Your daily word. But our time here, where You sit beside me as I write — such precious time — was sacrificed to serving our out-of-town guests.

The week left me exhausted, spent. The 24-hour presence of others to serve and to enjoy wore heavily, as we two couples shared our meals, our housing, our time, stories, music, travel.

I was left feeling incredibly inadequate as a servant and host, not because I did not serve our friends and make them welcome, but because rather than being uplifted and enlivened in my service, I was often left grumpy, stressed, frustrated by one thing or another, then, disappointed with my own behavior or words.

I think my sin-filled humanity dimmed, maybe even extinguished, the light of Your divinity in me.

I am sorry, Father. No wonder You choose to have me spend so much of my time in introspection and writing, where you give me time to consider with greater care my words and thoughts. I’m not yet well equipped to represent You as You deserve in real time with others. I don’t yet retain the calm and peace of Your spirit, allowing it clear passage to shine through my interior darkness.

Forgive me, Father. And bless me with Your gentle direction. Only with Your help and grace may I remember how to be, no matter my circumstances; whose I am, first and always; and only then, the holy purpose You have for me, when You place others on my path.

As St. Mother Teresa of Kolkata would pray, help me to give what You ask and to accept what You give, all with joy and a big smile.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.