Barking at the Rain

Last week we experienced another summer deluge and I was amused to see my dog leave her cover and stand facing the living room window, nose lifted, sniffing the puffed breeze flowing through the screen. She barked once, sat, laid her ears back, and continued to analyze the scents, finding it necessary to alert me another few times with barks and less urgent "woofs" that it was, apparently...raining outside.

To all appearances, she was indeed, barking at the rain, and I admit I shared her sentiments; I'm tired of the rain, too.

Lately, it's been pouring, and I'm not just talking about the crazy weather we've been experiencing for nearly the last year: the unusual extremes of winter followed by the unusual extremes of summer. And of late, the death, the crisis, the emergencies, the uncertainty....it just won't stop raining.

Still, between the raindrops, there have been blessings, surprising blessings, seemingly small but when considered, reveal the hand of God at work.

My friend died a week ago Friday, and it was with agony on that day that  I reigned in my own grief and called the many other volunteers who knew and loved him, and then I called his students. And my co-workers.

Every so often I had to stop and take a deep breath, perhaps let out a little sob, only so that it would not interrupt my speech. I had to be professional, and still, on several of the calls, it was obvious both to the person receiving the news and to me that we BOTH knew the other was weeping.

I think what hit me the hardest was speaking to one of the students, catching the hitch in his voice, knowing he didn't want me to hear it and yet, I could nearly SEE it through the phone lines.

Willing to Suffer in Joy and Pain

For years, ever since I began at my work, I knew I was not "called" to it. I hate the charismaticsm that surrounds me and rules my co-workers and any area of youth ministry in which I am involved. I hate having to conform to a spirituality I do not possess and find lacking, and then inflict it upon our youth as though this is the ONLY thing.

One of the pillars of my work, then, was the man who recently went to his eternal reward, because although he never expressed it, he and I saw eye to eye on this and worked together to bring our own more...contemplative...spiritualities into the realm of religious education. And I know, from him and from his students, that he truly brought himself into the classroom, engaging them with stories from his life and military service, showing his love for them through teaching our Catholic faith through example, devotion, and practice.

He died praying for "his boys" and all who instruct students in the Catholic faith. To my blog readers...that means he was praying for YOU and for YOUR students as well!

Unexpectedly Finding my Place

When I went to pay my respects, before I approached the coffin I waited to speak with one of his daughters, and in a way, felt very awkward. It wasn't "my parish" because I only worked there, right? Yes, my work parish is a second home of sorts, but...still. Who was I to enter into this moment of grief?

The second she saw me, though, his daughter threw her arms around me and sobbed into my shoulder, "He loved you so much!"

I hugged her back, instantly as tearful, hugging her as fiercely. I've lost my father, too, and now I've lost a friend who was HER father, and all I could expel between my own sobs was, "I loved HIM so much, too!" We cried together, shared joyful stories together, and, well, reveled in the love of a struggling-to-be-holy man who had touched so many souls.

While there I saw many other parishioners, and we alternately wept and smiled, for we all knew our grief was transient; we believe in the Resurrection, and we are happy this dear soul has been called back Home, where we all hope to meet again.

It was there that I understood my place in the parish; I, too, have a role, I have a place, and to those parishioners I am also a part of the the family. Although I had often called upon this man for help in various programs, and he has meant a lot to me, it was through his family that I learned how important I was to him...and to all of them.

They helped me, unwittingly, understand more deeply the bonds of friendship and service and that my parish work has effects I cannot possibly understand.

My friend, in his death, has taught me a great lesson, perhaps the most important I have ever learned, about the value of the smallest things I do in my employment in ministry and their impact on the people I serve, including my volunteers.

It Was Pouring

While learning this great lesson, I was in the midst of fear of greater grief, fear of losing my mother. Fear of being the only family member available during her procedure. Fear of making the wrong decision for her, contrary to her wishes and Catholic teaching.

I couldn't find my mother's medical directive so couldn't bring it to the hospital so trusted, as she'd shown me, that it was with her documents should it be needed. She had to fill out paperwork prior to arriving at the hospital, so when I arrived I thought it would be available to me.

No, it wasn't. Mom remembered her overnight bag, but left all of her documents...ALL of them...on her kitchen table. That meant that her pre-op was delayed as she filled out the permissions and history and contacts all over again, but it wasn't until I was brought back and sat with her for an hour that I learned she didn't have her medical directive.

My own heart nearly stopped when, 40 minutes into what we expected to be a 60-120 minute procedure, I was called back to the "Consulting Room".

I had been glancing at the clock, wondering how my friend's funeral was going, wishing I was there, praying not to be planning my own mother's funeral.

Then in the Consulting room, I was living in two places: planning the future and visualizing the present at which I was not...present.

Because I've written of it, you all know how it turned out...but I cannot accurately express my agony of that time.

Feast of St. Rose of Lima

It is fitting that I finally publish this post on the Feast of such a great Saint, for St. Rose of Lima was well acquainted with suffering, and chose it both for her own hidden humiliation but also to emphasize the necessity of our willingness to unite our own agony with that of Christ in His Passion.

How often I fail at this! How often I complain and squirm and wail and whine!

How often God must roll His Divine eyes at my caterwaling!

When I experience the slightest discomfort, I complain.

Elevated humidity?  Oh, the suffering!

A pain in my knee? Oh, the agony!

A bit more rain than usual?  Oh the torment and drama!

A bit of suffering with the chance of "offering it up"? Oh the refusal to rise to holiness!

St. Alphonsus Liguori, in "Uniformity With God's Will"  wrote with simplicity about how easy it is to just...accept God's will in every moment.

I can't even stand a bit of discomfort. It's "too hot" or "too cold" or "too busy" or "too...whatever". Never mind the toil our Savior suffered for our salvation.

It's so easy to forget that we aren't here on earth to be comfortable and really shouldn't be so shocked at the trials that come our way. After all...we choose most of them for ourselves! Seriously, we shouldn't complain so much when we are faced with adversity of any sort.

While I can't speak for my readers, most of whom, no doubt, buck up so much better, I can say, with great shame, that I am all too willing to give in to venting and anger and passion when faced with the realities of life, when something is asked of me that takes me out of my comfort zone.

That is behavior far unfitting a Christian. 

A couple weeks ago, the  Gospel was about the woman Jesus called a "dog".

I know why He did this, and I know why she compared herself to one as well. She and I are one and the same and I realized it while I watched my German Shepherd respond with defiance to the downpour that was flooding our yard.

I am nothing more than a dog barking at the rain, for the rain will fall whether I bark at it or not. I know Christ and have been baptized into His Body, yet am nothing more than a dog refusing crumbs and barking at the rain, only to seek shelter as though the thunder and lightning do not exist.

Gravitational Pull: Straddling Two Worlds

So often, I feel like I'm trying to straddle two worlds.  

There is so much I love about my life, and those same things I love I also sometimes hate.

Then there are those things that I find are most important to me. For example:  I love guys!

I don't mean in the flirtatious over-sexed significance of the "When-Harry-Met-Sally-Is-My-Bible" crowd, but naturally, without any weird pheremonal currents.  I honestly enjoy the company and friendship of men and, dare I admit it...I often prefer their company to that of women.

There. I said it: I like to hang out with guys.

Mind you, the guys I like to hang out with are respectful, know their boundaries, are maybe married, or priests, or, well...not someone likely to hit on me. (And if they did I wouldn't hang out with them any more.)  Single guys are just fine, too, but I don't look at single men as an opportunity to flirt. I put them on the same level as the others, simply enjoy their company and find that I can often better relate to them (guys in general) better than I can other women.

(As an aside: even though I do not believe I am called to marriage I am open to it and I would NEVER consider courting a man with whom I could not be good friends.)

That's not to say I don't love to hang out with my girlfriends. There is NOTHING like a good "Girl's Night"!  But of course, the girls I like to hang out with are less into fashion and more into fun things like movies, dinner, humor....and nothing froofy.

I don't like "crafts" or "projects" or knitting or sewing, and demure games of cards tend to bore me to tears. Unless, of course, I'm playing Blackjack with my guyfriends and one of them keeps up a hilarious dealer-prattle that keeps us all in stitches and leads to the scandalous-sounding name of our favorite college game, "Asshole".  (Sorry, but that's the name of it and I have very fond memories of  holding that particular Title in two countries!)

You see? We're back to guys.

As I ponder my Vocation, I wonder about this.  Fr. Loyola, in speaking about Theology of the Body on Relevant Radio, once commented that if one goes to any given event, one finds the men standing around the grill talking sports, and the women in the kitchen chatting about, well...woman things.

*yawn*

I'm sorry. I've had about all I can take of discussing potty training, home school curriculum, dress sizes, celebrities, and hair salons. In fact, I have NOTHING to say about ANY of that, nor can I relate to it.  After all, I'm already potty-trained, at work I often deal with home-schoolers and discuss curriculum as it relates to my job, I hate talking about clothing sizes because shopping is the bane of my existence, and I only darken the door of a hair salon once per year, if that.  What's more, the only people I respect less than politicians are "Celebrities". God save us from Celebrities and their devotees, especially if the devotees are mindless politicians!

To be fair, though, my married female friends actually are very good about saving those "marriage and family"  conversations for when I'm not around, they're not into celebs, are too busy with real life to worry about fashion and, well, have better hair than mine but probably have other friends who are hair artists and do their hair while talking about potty training.

So you see, it all works out.

My single female friends, though...oy...come to think of it, I don't have a lot of them anymore. Those who are, are discerning Vocations to religious life, and they like crafts and cards and all sorts of things that make me go cross-eyed.  (Wait...that's a genetic condition I've had since birth.)  But you know what I mean.

It's such a struggle.

On one hand, I love what I have experienced of the religious life. I love the hours of prayer, I love the silence, the solitude, and the everyday work that keeps the "household" running. Although my first experience felt almost "industrial" to me in those big ol' kitchens, I'm sure over time it would feel more like a family event. After all, I'm from a very small family and we could have cooked on a hotplate.

Hmm....I think we did a couple times.

On the other hand, I think about the restrictions; my entire life would be with...other women. ONLY other women. Women who probably never had an interest in shooting, hand-to-hand-combat, Blackjack, Tequila shots, games called "Asshole", hanging out with guys at the grill talking about the Kentucky Derby instead of hanging with the ladies in the kitchen wearing checkered tableclothes as aprons, can't tell the difference between a leafspring and a modified McPhearson, ground effects from a spinner kit....etc.

Yes, yes, I know there are a myriad of personalities and experiences. I just wonder how the tomboys manage to become "one of the girls" and go from backyard campfires with the guys to knitting rosaries and crocheting veils while discussing the latest demure topic in the convent.

Believe me...my own bawdy humor does not go over well in the convent, even my most innocent of bawdiness.

In all seriousness, though, how can a woman who thinks "Fight Club" is a great movie, and jams to the opening tune of "Gone in 60 Seconds" enter into the utter and complete estrogen of the monastery?

This question, this ENTIRE POST, in fact, is rhetorical. Please don't try to answer it.

I assure you...you don't have the answers, and I haven't stated anything here that needs "fixing".  Rather, I'm just offering, in complete honesty, a portion of the discernment process. And it's something a LOT of discerning women don't want to talk about. I'm sure to some, what I've said seems outright scandalous.  To others, what I've said is EXACTLY what they're experiencing, too.

In the end, discernment isn't about our preferences; every Vocation requires a sacrifice. I don't feel called to marriage and seemed to be outright "released" from it a couple years ago at a friend's wedding. Perhaps part of my sacrifice is my relationship with men (chaste!), my backyard barbecues, talking shop with them about things most women can't discuss and don't want to (like guns and hunting and car theft...oh my!).

God calls whom He calls, He knows our true happiness, and as Psalm 139 reminds us, He "discerns our purpose from afar."  

But knowing all these things, recognizing them as part of my discernment, doesn't change that sense of being a part of two worlds, sensing a draw to one world, while still holding onto the one I'm in.

The Latest Buzz...

Today I finally sent my response to the Passionists in St. Louis.

Yeah, I know I'd said I'm closing the door, but in talking it over with my Spiritual Director during Lent, he was pretty clear in that he wanted me to respond and take them up on their invitation.

The one thing I know about God:  He takes obedience very seriously. And the one thing I learned from St. Francis de Sales and St. Catherine of Siena:  obedience to the Spiritual Director is obedience to God Himself (unless one is being asked to commit a mortal sin), and the virtue of obedience is the key that opens Heaven.

So I have finally completed the letter and today, sent it out, accepting their invitation...should God will that it be so.

I know that as I get closer and closer to resolution, this sense of being torn apart is going to get more and more intense. I will have to make a decision, but until I can resolve a few things, a decision cannot be made.  If I were to decide right now, at this moment, I would say "NO!", and that decision would be purely emotional. Why?  Because discernment is hard and I'm sick to death of it and want nothing more than for it to be over. Instead, I'm looking deeper, knowing that the Truth has not yet been mined, and it won't be so without application of reason. Reason requires research and in this case, personal experience.

It is a classic case of Faith and Reason.

Oy...I'm Dominican, aren't I?

*sigh*

Stop laughing!

Diagnosis

Today, finally, I met with my spiritual director. I will admit, I didn't want to go. Again, I found myself in the situation of not wanting to tell him what I had to say. Sure, I knew he'd be understanding, but it has to do with things that are hard for ME to talk about. Which, of course, means that they are exactly the things that need to be discussed.

He knew some of what was going on as I'd sent him a word document with my last appointment request, a reflection I'd written that pretty much stated, at the core, some of my position. But it didn't say everything...a few things were held in reserve. I couldn't even WRITE them, but knew I had to STATE them when the time came.

God's grace. Always, His grace.

Our discussion was fruitful and dredged up something that has long been a problem. It's not really the first time it has come up, but this time, he saw something in this that points to something else. Something lacking in my life.

Suddenly he asked me, "Can you get away, even for a day? Find a retreat? Just...get away?"

I had immediate excuses...work schedule, grad school...ie if I "get away" my books come with me, thus rendering the retreat not a retreat. He understood, of course.

In hearing his suggestion, initially I was thinking, "I just WENT on a few retreats! I haven't been back that long!" I confess, though, that I wish I could take another weekend away in the silence and solitude of the monastery. The cost might be a problem as this wouldn't be a discernment retreat anymore, but I was already shrugging his suggestion off, anyway.

Our discussion continued, and near the end of our time, he restated that I should find the time to just...get away. Not to discern, not to "do" something, but to just get away from "HERE", meaning everything in my life. Get a new perspective. Get away.

"You need something to look forward to," he said, glancing at me appraisingly. "Everyone needs something to look forward to."

He's right.

It took me awhile to see it, but in reflecting on our conversation, I remembered he was asking me what I see in my future, the things going on in my life. Essentially...What's going on in my life that has any real meaning? I cited work, which we discussed is just a job, not a calling or a career, I cited grad school, to end in May, graduation in June, God willing. But...then what? Sure I look forward to graduating, but it's not attached to anything but a piece of paper and a lot of debt. And I have this job that can't pay the loan....

I said it without explicitly stating it: I have nothing to look forward to.

I have nothing to work toward. I don't know my Vocation, I don't know what to do with the grad degree I'm working on and I'm stuck.

"Go visit your friends in Ohio!" my SD exclaimed. "Go! They'll be good for you!"

Dunce that I am, I still left his office thinking of the impossibility of "getting away" right now. Stretched ahead of me I see few free weekends, no time off, just work and school and family for Thanksgiving, and then the insanity of Christmas, then back for my last semester of school. Get "away?" I'd LOVE to! I LOVE my dear Ohio (and Indiana!) friends! I WANT to go back to Ohio!

But of course, as good spiritual direction goes, the important message eventually kicks in.

D'OH!

Of COURSE! Get away!

Sure, first he suggested a retreat, which would be nice, but there's no way I could go on a retreat and not turn it into discernment. I have this problem of needing to make everything "useful".

What my SD sees is that what I really need is what I'm COMPLETELY lacking in my life: fun.

There's no fun. Anywhere. Everything is compartmentalized. Everything is regimented, and my free time...is still dedicated to the "hum-ho" of life. It's not exactly "fun". Oh, sure there are the occasional weekend evenings with friends, but out of months at a time of intensity, what is a few hours of friendly escape? Just a drop in the bucket and that drop is too small to even create a ripple.

He's right. The reason I've been so danged depressed is that I have no goals, I have nothing to look forward to, nothing to plan and "romance".

It's so completely obvious I can't believe I didn't see it.

So...am looking at the calender. Am not sure how I'm going to pay for it with so much debt, but if God wills it, I am going to Ohio, I will figure out how to pay for it (seriously, the plane ticket is usually not THAT expensive), and I'm looking forward to seeing my friends again!

Of course, looking forward is much easier when the date is actually circled on the calender and the plane ticket is being located....

Oh, I need this......

The email has been sent to my friends.....oh, now planning the adventure is underway.....

Forgiveness

This evening I had to run out to complete an errand, and when I returned, I saw evidence that my dog had gotten into something. No, it wasn't a big mess of any type, just a bit of evidence revealing that, in fact, she is a dog and sometimes finds her joy in things such as used kleenexes.

As I picked the evidence off the floor, she laid on the couch, ears up, wagging her tail as I stared at her disapprovingly. I said her name quietly, shaking my finger.

Her "tone" changed immediately from one of innocence to guilt as her tail wag decreased to wagging the tip only, she ducked her head, laid back her ears, and when I called her to me, she slithered off the couch, remaining low as she approached.

In proper fashion she "crawled" to me, turned around, sitting on my left foot, her tail tucked as tightly as she could manage. She looked upwards at me, still wagging the tip of her tail, her ears flat back against her head in her most "heartfelt" apology.

As I bent down closer to her, she took the opportunity to show her great love by giving me several enthusiastic "kisses".

Naturally, I laughed out loud as I showed her a bit of my own affection for her, immediately forgiving her. Who can withstand those puppy-dog eyes, that voracious affection and heartfelt apology?

Not I.

I'm a pushover.

What gets me, though, is that my dog's "apology" is exactly the same, no matter what her level of offense. She apologizes with the same degree of hopeful sorrow and submission, whether she's caused a disaster or whether she's done something as minor as tearing apart a used kleenex left sitting out on the coffee table.

I can't tell you how many times God has used my dog to get through to me.

And yet people wonder why Jesus compared an imploring woman to a dog in the gospels? Really?

They must not know dogs...or God!

There's a bigger message here, though.

If we are to be forgiven, we must first forgive others.

Maybe the only one we have to forgive is our dog, but in reality, we've all suffered at the hands of others, we all hold grudges, and we all nurse our wounds even as we beg for God's mercy for our own offenses.

What hypocrites we are.

Lately, this topic of forgiveness has come up over and over again, naturally getting my attention. Recently on the radio I heard a priest suggest that it is a good practice to ask God to reveal to us anyone we haven't forgiven. We aren't always aware of the grudges we are holding and perhaps don't intend to hold. In prayer, God will answer this powerful request and we can simply choose to forgive that person who has hurt us as soon as they come to mind.

There are cases where, of course, the damage goes so deep that we simply don't have the natural ability to let go. It is then that we can throw ourselves upon Our Lord and ask Him, in His Passion, to forgive that person for us, bringing us to do the same. We can do nothing without Him.

I've been working on this, not consciously aware of any particular person I haven't forgiven. Yet, since I began this prayer, a few people have come to my attention, some through random contact, others while I was in Adoration, and I've realized that I am harboring far more grudges than I ever realized.

And just "forgiving them" isn't so easy. I can't seem to let them all go, even though I don't WANT to feel any anger towards them, I don't WANT to remember their offense against me, and of course, I hope that they have also forgiven me my offenses against them, if in fact my own offenses applied.

It seems I can far more easily forgive a terrorist who killed thousands of people than I can a friend who offended me once.

That says a lot, doesn't it?

And I suspect I am not alone in this.

The other day I read a news article about a September 11 family suffering still because of the loss of their husband and father. They are still angry, eight years later. The article quoted them saying they COULDN'T move on, they couldn't let go.

As I read, it was obvious; they needed to find a way to forgive. Indeed they couldn't move on; to do so would necessitate forgiveness of their enemy.

I don't judge those people; I understand. If I were in their shoes, I'd have a hard time, too. I, too, wouldn't have room in my heart to forgive a terrorist who had taken my loved one.

Yet I CAN forgive that terrorist. It doesn't really mean a lot, though, does it? After all, the terrorist didn't kill MY family member, but THEIRS. Is he my enemy? Indeed. He hurt my country and I spent yesterday in tears at that loss of life. But there's still a disconnect. That terrorist is faceless to me in a way that he is entirely personified evil to the families directly affected.

It is really easy to forgive people who have injured us collectively, as opposed to personally.

That's the REAL test.

It's not about politics. It's not about generalities. The words of Jesus weren't asking us to forgive political agendas and the people representing them, but rather, He was asking us to dig deep and consider all those who have harmed us...ever. In any way. Maybe a sibling or a parent, a cousin, a friend. A rival in love or competetion of some sort.

Our problem with this gospel is that we legalize the definitions, applying them to our times. We "democratize" them, thinking that an "enemy" must be political, for this definition gets us off the hook.

No.

I have found that although I wouldn't define them as such for myself, the people I find it hardest to forgive are those who are or were friends. People who are in my life as loved ones, with whom I still have contact or some kind of fellowship.

They aren't "enemies" belonging to any kind of political agenda. Let's face it; I really don't care if some random German has decided to hate me because I'm American. Their hatred doesn't affect me unless that individual makes it personal, and even then, it wouldn't affect me much because, not knowing that person directly, I really wouldn't know if it was some kind of bot or just a maladjusted mental patient who had gone on random attack. (In current internet parlance, we call them "Anonymous Trolls". I might not even know of their hatred for me at all.

In any case, such an "enemy" would really be no more than a horsefly, if even that.

Jesus wasn't asking us to forgive horseflies.

His use of the term "enemy" was far more personal, far more intimate...and He meant what He said.

Our enemies are those we love, those with whom we associate, and who affect us every day. They are the people we meet on the internet and who disagree with our position. Maybe they ARE anonymous trolls who attack and run away, poor souls much like what's-his-name in Lord of the Rings, who really is more deserving of pity than hatred?

We have to forgive. That message is very very clear. We have to forgive those who injure us, who hate us, whether they are close to us or not. "Enemy" is a broad term, and it encompasses everything. No one is excluded from this.

If we desire God's mercy, then we need to be forgiving of others. That is His commandment. Love your enemies; it is no credit to any of us to love those who love us.

Even sinners do the same.

We can't excuse ourselves by saying that we are sinners.

Jesus came to save us; not to leave us to our excuses not to follow His directives for holiness.

One More Thing

We have to forgive ourselves, too.

This is perhaps the most difficult thing of all. We know when we have done wrong, we know when we have offended God. We Catholics know for certain when we have been forgiven, and we have to ACCEPT God's mercy.

We are our own enemies.

Again, recently I came across a quote from someone saying her priest had told her the following (paraphrased: "You can be certain that you are forgiven when you feel remorse for past sins."

So true. When we are tempted to beat ourselves up for stuff we did long ago, but already confessed and from which we have moved on, we must be certain to accept God's grace of forgiveness. Our ongoing contrition is indeed a sign that, truly, we are forgiven.

Remember that forgiveness and forgetfulness are two very different things. We may remember the pain, but we should do so without anger. We should remember only with objectivity, in that we are forgiven, and that we are to forgive others.

Myself, I struggle with ALL of this. I realize that I don't forgive when I should, I hold grudges, and...I have a really hard time forgiving myself for things I have long ago confessed.

All of this is an offense against the Holy Spirit. Yet God in His patience and love is ready to help us overcome our own inabilities, and simply awaits our cries. Can we recognize our unforgiveness? Or will we try to burst forward in our spiritual lives without being held accountable?

If we can't seem to move, perhaps it is because we need to forgive...others AND ourselves.

*

Questionable Spiritual Direction

This morning I read a wonderful post on spiritual direction which perfectly highlights many of the problems in "spiritual direction" programs, and "directors" that advertise their services.

The reality is that faithful Catholics don't have very many avenues to pursue. If you type "spiritual direction" into a web search, there are millions of returns, but perusing them leaves us to realize we've been left to the wolves.

A quick perusal of spiritual direction programs leaves a bad taste in one's mouth. How are these people being trained? It's easy to see: Reiki, Enneagram, Chakras, Yoga....the list goes on. Where in there are the Saints who served as spiritual directors and learned how to guide souls? Where are the spiritual giants? Why are potential directors being fed junk food when Catholicism has a wealth of true spirituality that trumps anything any other religion can produce?

I don't expect non-Catholic directors to be Catholic. However, I DO expect those who ARE Catholic to be faithful! Is that too much to ask?

Apparently. The article I read this morning observed the confusion going on in the world of those being trained for spiritual direction.

A great example of this sad confusion surfaced in a conversation I had today with someone who was taking classes with a religious order to become a "spiritual director." In one of her recent classes the nuns brought in a Buddhist, a Natural Spiritist, and a number of other non-Christian representatives to share their spiritual insights. The goal was to understand that, as she said, "we are all Children of God" and that "we can learn a great deal from the spiritual lives of those who come out of these other religions."

I was a bit dumbfounded even though I am accustomed to this particular convent spreading dissent and confusion. What struck me was how readily this "spiritual direction" trainee had accepted what they presented to her.....With deep incredulity, I wondered why someone would look outside of the endless depth and riches of their own faith, the One true Faith, the pinnacle of all that is good and true, into the spiritual wastelands of those who reject Christ both directly and indirectly. Even looking at the good of what is available in some of these religions, it is something like being diverted away from the most lavish banquet ever served in the history of time to a garbage can in the back of a greasy dive. Yes, something in there will be semi-edible, but why would anyone who had a seat reserved for them at this great feast ever choose to eat this way?

INDEED! AMEN! ALLELUIA!

The fact is that some of what he says in this piece is exactly what lead me down the road to New Age, and subsequently, occult. I saw "Catholic nuns" give license to all sorts of things, to include Tarot and other forms of divination and even animal worship.

So it should be no wonder if I bristle at hearing that good Catholics are being sucked into programs that tell them things like Reiki and the Enneagram are proper for Catholics. They are not.

A few years ago I met a woman who spoke of her yoga classes and chakras and said that she was trying to interpret it as Catholic. She said that she could "feel" the energy and she "chose to call it the Holy Spirit."

There's a problem with that; it either IS the Holy Spirit or it's NOT the Holy Spirit. We can call it whatever we want, but occult "energy" is no more of God than a rotted piece of dogflesh held up and called the "Blessed Sacrament."

Everything she was describing made my hair stand on end. Yet I said nothing, realizing that she wouldn't "hear" the truth. No one said anything...she was describing her experiences in a defensive tone and language. That immediately says a great deal. Although we were in a group of mixed views, not a single person spoke up for she was so defensive she was almost angry in her explanation, or, in charismatic terms, "her sharing."

If it's of God, there's no need to be defensive when no one has attacked.

I do realize that there are spiritual direction programs out there that are much like the bad seminaries that produced a few good priests in spite of their efforts to destroy the priesthood via bad formation. God has His hand on His Faithful, and brings souls safely through bad formation. Those who are formed simply reject what is evil and work hard, on their own, to own what is truly good and orthodox. The reality is that often people cannot follow their calls unless they are subjected to evil in the process.

To any of the Faithful seeking spritual direction...check out Catholic Spiritual Direction. I've been following it for quite awhile now and have found it to be faithful, good advice. Maybe you can't find an SD where you are. Read the Saints. Read this blog and their resources. Remember that God does not abandon you and that He gives you what you NEED...not necessarily what you may want.

I wanted an SD for a long time, but one was not provided to me until the actual need arose. I found him in a time of desperation, and with much prayer and following that prayer.

Had I just given in to my own wants, I would have found one of the confused sheep described in the post I quoted.

Don't give yourself to feeding on garbage. Trust God, pray for a good director, and remember that it's not a right...it's a gift from God. If He wants you to have one, He'll provide, and that director will be faithful!

Avoid the refuse that is so readily available. As Catholics, we have no need to go out of our faith to find what is good. Certainly there might be something good to be found in other religions, but, of course, if you dig in a dumpster you can also find a small section of meat or bread that might not be rotted and can sustain you briefly, too. But there's also a good chance that same piece will kill you. Are you willing to go dumpster diving for your soul when you have all you need provided to you in your own Faith?

Resources:

Catholic Spiritual Direction

Vatican Document on New Age: Jesus Christ the Bearer of the Water of Life

Unceasing Desire; Unceasing Grace

This morning as I sleepily drank my morning coffee, I came across a quote from St. Augustine, compliments of Catholic Spiritual Direction:

“But there is another and interior way of praying without ceasing, and that is the way of desire. Whatever else you are doing, if you long for that Sabbath, you are not ceasing to pray. If you do not want to cease praying, do not cease longing. Your unceasing desire is your unceasing voice.”

- St Augustine

It made me sit up and pay attention. I've written before of praying without ceasing, but I've never seen this quote, or this aspect. 

Who HASN'T had that longing for God?  You leave Mass, but really would prefer to just remain, there at the foot of the Cross, having just partaken of the Sacrifice of Christ.  Who hasn't had to leave Adoration, preferring to remain there in the blessed silence of the chapel, alone with Jesus, the only one who understands you, knows you more intimately than you know yourself...and loves you anyway?

Have you ever gone about your day, wishing you could go to Mass, desiring to spend time with the Lord in prayer, longing so desperately to be with Him that you're almost ready to just fall down in the spot where you stand and BEG to be transported to Him? 

Consider Psalm 63:

O God, you are my God, for you I long; 

for you my soul is thirsting

My body pines for you

like a dry, weary land without water

So I gazed on you in the sanctuary

to see your strength and your glory. 

For your love is better than life...

On you I muse through the night

for you have been my help;

in the shadow of your wings I rejoice.

My soul clings to you;

your right hand holds me fast. 

Or

  Psalm 42: 

As a deer longs for flowing waters

so longs my soul for thee, O God. 

My soul thirsts for God

for the living God.

When shall I come and behold the face of God? 

I am constantly struck by the writings of the Saints, and the Psalms and readings in the Liturgy of the Hours.  How human are the expressions, the emotions, the reality of the blessed agony arising from a soul sincerely seeking God! 

Perhaps we can't remain in active prayer all day, but sometimes God grants us the consolation of that deep interior longing, and that longing itself is an expression of His grace.  It's not an emotion, but something far deeper. It is a sense of almost abandonment, yet...even that can't cover it. It's a sense of constantly reaching out for God, knowing He is there, and there is not a void, but a real presence. That longing isn't in vain, but in fact, as St. Augustine explains, is a very real connection to God. It is ongoing prayer, one so deep that it goes far beyond any words we can express, perhaps beyond our own physical presence?  

How often do we go to Mass, and we're not even engaged?  How often do we go to our regular Adoration hour, or pray the rosary...while our minds wander?

At times, it may be for our spiritual good that we are deprived of these devotions, but longing for something greater.  Deprivation of the Sacraments may, in a devout soul, increase fervor for God.  How pleased must God be if we leave Mass, or perhaps are deprived from attending Mass...and long so deeply for God that our longing cannot find coherent expression, but instead forges its own connection to God, leading us ever-closer to Him?  

I'm so grateful for the availability of the Sacraments where I live, for I can go to Confession any day of the week, I have multiple opportunities for Mass, and so that longing for God can be satisfied. Yet, it still remains unfulfilled in some dimension, for as long as we wander this world, we are pilgrims.  Our Lord in His mercy remains with us in the Blessed Sacrament, but until we are called to leave this world, we will have that unfulfilled longing that will only be satisfied when we are sanctified in His eternal embrace.

Our longing for God is an agonizing, joyful grace, and may it ever be present, constantly beckoning us towards greater sanctification.  Amen.

*

Grateful

This afternoon I had a meeting with my spiritual director, and I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to the meeting. I wasn't sure how I was going to approach what I had to say, or how he would react, what he would say, etc.

While still at home, I mused that I had looked and prayed so hard for an SD, finally found one...and didn't want to go. I also knew that I would never cancel such an appointment, because sometimes the most difficult things can be the most rewarding.

I spent some time in the adoration chapel beforehand, praying. I realized that a few things were converging today: As the first of May, it is the month of Mary. It is the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker, and as a First Friday, it is a day dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Even further, my meeting was at 3 pm, the Hour of Mercy. Having long known our Blessed Mother, having long had St. Joseph as a special patron, having forever had the Sacred Heart of Jesus as a primary devotion in my life...well, let's just say I could not ignore the fact that God is and remains present in my life and orchestrated both the day and the time of this meeting.

So I prayed, not just for me, but for my SD, for us, for our meeting, and for trust in God.

My friends, God is good. God is faithful. God is loyal.

Our meeting went well, and as always, I find Father to be very easy to talk to. He is understanding, sympathetic, and objective. And in the course of our meeting, he managed to point out two major issues I need to deal with: control and trust.

They seem so opposed to each other, yet, each has a balance.

I'm not a "controlling" person per se, as I tend to actually let a lot of things go. But that doesn't mean I trust. In fact, I have a very difficult time trusting God and trusting others. I have a hard time letting God take over, and I know WHY this is, but the knowing doesn't help me give God the reins.

It comes down to such simplicity; finding trust in God such that I can let Him take control.  

As my SD pointed out, what's going on right now is learning that trust.  God is doing something major in my life. 

I won't give a rehash of our conversation, but I will say this:  I feel like my life is falling apart. I can watch the threads that hold it all together fading, fraying, and separating.  I'm terrified. I know I'm going to lose everything, and not on my timing and in my way.  I'm still trying to be in control, tie knots to hold things together that maybe NEED to fall to pieces, for they are not useful anymore.  

I told Father of my crisis of last weekend, of wanting to give up, of being so tired.  I also explained that I realize I've lost my focus on God, and need to spend more time with Him, letting HIM decide where I should go and when. 

There is no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit guided our conversation, for he used phrases and words that have been in my mind all week.  And he refuses to give up on me. 

There are many in my life who have given up on me, and maybe they were right to do so. But Father won't.  I realize this is part of learning to trust in God, and to let God work as He desires.  

Perhaps it's appropriate that I found, as a spiritual director, one of Christ's own chosen sons;  for I must learn to trust God in conjunction with one who represents Him very directly.  And just as it is the Holy Spirit who acts to bring Christ to His people through the hands of the priests, so it is, in spiritual direction, that the Holy Spirit will bring the voice of My Lord into the depths of my soul through one vowed to serve in His place. 

The mercy of God is endless. 

I hope my depth of gratitude will rise as a font to meet the pefect depths of mercy of Jesus so that there I may be drowned in true life and real sacrificial love as I continue to seek to give myself, without reserve, to Our Lord for eternity.