The Gospel today speaks of not storing up for ourselves treasures on earth where they will be stolen or destroyed. Jesus recommends that we store up treasures in Heaven. Where our treasures are, they too are hearts will be found. This Gospel always did strike a chord for me but today I felt puzzled by it. I am not sure why exactly.
Maybe coming face to face with death–or at least the possibility of it–changes a person’s perspective, she says somewhat tongue in cheek. Unlike the birds of the air, we all have stuff that fills up our homes. I look around lately and I do not feel so attached to things. I do not have a desire to shop either. I think I could do a lot of purging right now if I had the energy.
My heart is elsewhere right now. The week has been an emotional roller coaster for me. After 6 months of holding it together more or less, I have these moments of being overwhelmed with tears and fears. The moths are trying to nibble away at my serenity and the hope staff is rusting slightly. Fear is creeping in and stealing my sanity. It was bound to happen. I am no super hero, though some people may think I am. I have tried hard to stay positive and calm by living in the moment. Now however, I do want some answers. I want to know if I can escape somewhere as planned this summer or if I will be chained to a chemo schedule. I want to know more about the prognosis of my illness. I want someone in the know to reassure me that everything will be alright. Suddenly, I am tired of this particular wait. This is the first time impatience is winning the arm wrestling contest.
I suppose crashing into this brick wall was inevitable. I am gearing up for yet another round of tests and specialists. Simply put, I am tired. I would like to go back to a normal life and I know that is not yet going to happen. I want to sit outside on a patio for lunch or take a leisurely stroll and pretend all is well. I do not want to always discuss my disease. I want to be able to remember what is going on in my friend’s life so I can ask about that but my brain is so unable to be focused right now. I forget birthdays and special events. I hate that. It is not who I am. I realize that no one is judging me on that but it still feels horrible.
I could store up all this yuckiness and let it continue to overwhelm me. Playing the victim but it is not my go-to place. This pity party will soon end and I will return to knowing exactly the treasure I hold and where my heart is. Being present to the moment sometimes reveals a crappy moment. In Ignatian terms this does not mean I am in desolation. I still find I am very much in God’s safe hands, but I am raging instead of resting. God has never shrunk back from my anger and won’t now. God is in all things and God is in this wait with me. I am not happy but I am in consolation. I am grateful for my Ignatian Spirituality that helps me refocus. Now if I could just move back towards detachment.
When was there a time that waiting for something caused you angst?
Recall an experience where you felt consolation (the presence of God was still with you) even though you were inconsolable. What was it God said or did to help you through?