Of Toddlers, Temper Tantrums, and Timely Blessings

I think Father V. at Adam's Ale is rubbing off on me. He's fond of alliteration, and now here I go, copying his style.

Anyway, this is a long post alert. None of you should be surprised. You KNOW I can't keep my mouth shut!

Of Toddler and Temper Tantrums

Sometimes I think I paint a picture of myself on this blog that is not entirely accurate. Sometimes I get the impression that some readers think of me as some kind of "spiritual giant." As my previous post and some others like it should prove, I am nothing of the sort.

Today as I locked my computer, logged off my phone, and headed out the door, I considered some of the recent events of my life and the posts I've read recently by other bloggers, most notably Terry at Abbey Roads2 and Happy Catholic.

I have been struggling in my work for at least 3 years now. I've been there for almost five. My first year was very hard, but I had a goal, so it made the work bearable, but I couldn't lie to myself or anyone else...I hated it. Then I got promoted to my current position, and for about a year, I actually loved my job...mostly. Then things changed, and the company has gone downhill, the job has changed, and what I loved about it before no longer exists....that, and I've grown as a human being. I am not in the same spiritual place and those things I loved...well, let's just say that they are not things that are compatible with growing in virtue. Not for me, anyway. Perhaps others could handle the work and the focus of it without being so affected, but I am not one of those people. You all see how emotional I am; I wear my heart on my sleeve. My temperment is not compatible with my situation. Thus suffering ensues.

Yes, suffering is redemptive, and I've gone through phases...sometimes I'm able to accept my lot and trudge along, sometimes I'm barely keeping my rebellion at bay...and sometimes, the rebel in me is let loose in full fury and chaos reigns.

I am nothing but a spiritual toddler, kicking and screaming in my own little spiritual and emotional temper tantrums, telling God, "I will not serve!" even as I return to my work each day, grumbling, yet trying to hard, still telling God, "I am not going to do this!." And even as my words convey my feelings, my actions must be obedient, and God knows this, and tolerates my insolence. He knows I have no choice, and he knows this because he placed me in this very spot.

Today as I left, I considered one of my patrons, John Paul II. He helped me with my class spring semester this year, and has greatly opened my eyes to many theological matters. I've found him easy to talk to, and in doing so, he has lead me to answers.

Today, as I conversed in my prayer to this uncanonized saint, he reminded me of the posts I read, and asked me to consider what they told me. They are a mirror of myself and my reactions to things. They reflect what I do not want to see...that being my rebellion and my tantrums. I know that things happen on God's time, and I am reacting out of not necessarily frustration with God, but my own frustration with myself. I try to rely on myself far too much and end up leaving God out of the equation. I haven't found the balance of God's grace, my acceptance of it, and the actions I'm supposed to take versus the actions I want to take and my demands to God to fulfill what I want.

I say oh-so-piously, "Thy will be done," but what I reallly mean is "MY will be done."

God definitely knows our hearts, and even if we talk ourselves into saying we want God's will to be done, in reality, we are still praying to ourselves out of our own self-love, and God will certainly answer that prayer by allowing us to wallow in our own self-deceptive ways. It's the only way we can learn, and it's far more effective than a slap on the folded hands.

We inflict our own punishments. God doesn't have to do a thing. He just sits back and loves us enough to let us learn from our trials, most of which we cause for ourselves.

Then we kick and scream, we make demands, and finally God speaks up and asks, "Just WHO are you praying to?"

And then, maybe then, we stop long enough to listen to what he has to say, because that question is shocking in its simplicty.

Today, I realized that all my prayers are constantly being answered, even before I pray. In the context of my job, a few years ago God, seeing what was coming for he created me, drew me very close to him. I was attending Daily Mass and my work schedule allowed it. I was skipping lunch and going to adoration at a nearby chapel. I didn't realize it, but this was actually a fast. I once went almost two weeks without eating lunch, and I didn't care about the hunger, for the greater hunger was being met....my relationship with Our Savior.

Then it hit...bad management, friction with a certain key co-worker, realization that I had no future in my position, an impossible workload....and a possible call to religious life.

He saw my need and answered it, giving me strength to persevere when otherwise I would have run away. I was falsely accused, but the accusation and closed-door meeting happened upon my return from lunch Adoration, and I kept my eyes on the crucified Lord, as directed interiorly to do.

The suffering has continued...I have not found an escape.


TIMELY BLESSINGS

The Saints choose us...I'm convinced of that.

During my struggles, I was also making my entrance into the Church, and it was a long painful year, for even as I returned, I knew God was calling me to more, and I was so torn between the world and the spiritual life. Even as I suffered in the temporal realm, there was great joy in the spiritual, even as I suffered there as well.

One day I was in the back of the chapel, having an arrangement to wait until the end of the line to go to Confession with Father. I could not control my tears, I was struggling with so many things, and the waiting was unbearable. I sat, crying silently, looking at Jesus. I was near the statue of St. Therese the Little Flower; I've always had a devotion to her, even if marginal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman wearing a black chapel veil standing next to me. She nudged me gently and held a little homemade booklet out to me. Stooping slightly, whispering, she said to me, "I brought this here tonight for someone who wanted it, but that person is not here. I think I'm supposed to give it to you."

That little booklet was a series of prayers and novenas to St. Therese the Little Flower. That same year, shortly after, I said a brief novena to her, and in October, a flower bush outside my door burst into bloom, 3 flowers only. My other bush, nothing. Some of my neighbors have the same bushes, the same light exposure...no blooms anywhere else.

Then God sent me St. Francis de Sales, and his words of wisdom headed off some other crises. Next was Fr. Walter Ciszek, a Jesuit priest who spent 23 years imprisoned in Stalin's labor camps in Siberia, falsely accused. The parallels with my situation are undeniable, spiritually speaking, and given the hardship of his everyday life, his story gives me strength when facing my own problems.

God is upping the ante on me yet again, and I'm noticing the pattern...whenever he invites me deeper, to take on more in service to Him, the temporal issues become greater and more intense. The job is usually at the forefront of this type of suffering.

Yet, I am not alone. He sends in the troops. He sends me to His Mother.

Our Lady of Perpetual Help has become my perpetual help. I have quite literally felt my hands in hers, I have recieved affirmations of her intercession, and now, the Saints are coming out of the woodwork.

St. Rita (two people, in two days, brought her to me), St. Anthony (today is his feast day), Walter Ciszek, reminding me of his aid to me every day in my work, John Paul II, with his apostolic guidance with a personal touch...and so many others!

There is another Saint especially dear to my heart, for his was a household name for us. Our family prayed to him before he was ever canonized; Padre Pio. He was a friend of my great uncle, who met him during the war. I still have a letter from that uncle (the one who wanted me to be a teacher and offered to pay for my education), indicating that he added my brother and I to Padre Pio's spiritual family long ago.

Padre Pio is so close to us that I have a hard time referring to him as "Saint Pio", because, to me, he will always be "Padre", the grumpy "uncle" bearing the wounds of Christ. I'm certain it's this grumpy "uncle" who brought me back home, and I KNOW that he's the one who brought me back to Confession.

Yet for me, he remains on the outskirts of my spiritual awareness. I pray to him for his intercession, but more often, he doesn't answer those prayers directly, but instead places me in a position to bring his intercession to someone else. He has used me to bring signs of confirmation for prayers heard, he has used me to cousel others, he has used me to make connections on behalf of others. I didn't know of the connections until they happened and the other party revealed them to me.

Yet he terrifies me; my impression of him is of his grumpiness, although I know he was exceedingly kind, and wise, and holy. I have a sense that he is impatient with me, and well he should be...for I am a spiritual toddler when he has desired I be "raised" to be more like Christ. I fall short through my own fault, in spite of every grace given to me. How he must have sighed in impatience at yesterday's post!

But the Lord is faithful, and even in our imperfections, our spiritual childhood, he stays his hand and bears us up one more time.

I am such a mess of a human being...I am so often a bumbling idiot, and I am so grateful for the Lord's patience and the presence of our Holy Mother.


Yes, I am suffering, I hate my job, and that will continue. God has not seen fit to move me, and God seems to be very forgiving of my temper tantrums. He has sent me to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, He has sent me Saints, he has sent me angels, he has sent me people on earth.

My friends, I have no right to complain about anything; I have all the blessings available, and yet, I know I will continue to suffer in misery because that is our plight on earth.

We all suffer, but even in suffering, we have to recognize the blessings, because, it seems, the blessings are more obvious and abundant when we are in the throes of abject misery.

Our God is a God of mercy and paradox; and thus in true form, I must admit I am praying for more mercy and less paradox. Because, spiritual toddler that I am, I know I should be praying for God's will, but I'm going to be honest with you all...I'm praying for my will, and I need help in overcoming such a prayer.

And that's all I have to say about that. You can wake up and go home now. Come back and visit again sometime, especially if you need a nap.