Beauty Observed

Posted on March 23, 2015 by sstyves

050
The first reading today is not well known but a favourite of mine. I jokingly say it is from the book of Susanna, but it is from the Apocrypha, Daniel 13. The story is really about Susanne’s steadfast love for God but mostly homilies tend to focus on Daniel speaking the truth and outing the two lecherous elders.

If you know me, you know that I have a passion for beauty. I do not mean exclusively the physical beauty of a person or a stunning nature scene. I see the beauty of a human heart or a tender interaction, such as in the Gospel today with Jesus and the adulteress woman. The elders in today’s reading are struck by Susanna’s beauty and they totally miss the faithful heart that puts God first. This is the real reason that she is well loved. This is the reason that Daniel saves her–because she is righteous and the elders are not.

I have seen great beauty of all kinds in my life because I watch for it. This week I see the beauty of a miraculous body that God has created to renew and heal itself, the opportunity to rest, the snow blanketing the earth one more time prior to it coming alive in various shades of green, the caring of friends, and the joy of human connection. Where has beauty been observed in your life this week?

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | 1 Comment

Plant Your Seed

Posted on March 22, 2015 by sstyves

IMG_8815
I am a prairie girl so I get it when Christ uses images from the land to illustrate his point. Today’s Gospel of the grain of wheat dying makes sense to me. Without giving up our life, we are faced with not bearing fruit–with not becoming who we are meant to be. It is in the letting go, the surrendering in our darkest moments, that bring life. No matter how troubled your soul is, Jesus says we must let God be glorified in these circumstances and drink of the cup before us. The readings today are about suffering and God’s promise of assistance. They seem to fit with my life right now.

On Friday I checked into the hospital for a medical procedure that I had been told would last about an hour. In my mind, I created a scenario that looked very different from reality. Two days later I am still gingerly recovering but optimistic that the seed that is planted continues to grow with thanksgiving. The miracles of medicine really are amazing.

The day started with a pair of nurses who clearly did not comprehend the image of the grain of wheat dying. It was however the one low point of the day. One of the two created an awkward situation by some bizarre and borderline unprofessional behaviour by freaking out about the choice of my accompanier who to put the nurse at ease, I asked to leave the room. She was capable at her job but how she carried it out created unnecessary havoc for her colleague, my friend, and me. As someone who coaches people for a living, she has no idea how selfish and obnoxious she was being. Instead of helping to calm me for surgery, she upset me. She could not die to her own fears and insecurities and in the end, did me harm. I see it sometimes in my line of work–the person is so focused on what she needs that the student’s needs suffer. When we make something about us that really should be about someone else, it does not matter how good our skills are. We have missed the boat entirely. The fact that this nurse remained clueless about this bothers me enough to write about it and to follow it up once I am well enough.

The rest of the day was not easy but I found myself held by prayers and angels all around me. The procedure ended up being about three hours. Because I was awake, I could tell the doctor was challenged by what he needed to do. At one point, he told his team that he was in this for the long haul and so they better settle in too. He had promised me that he would not give up and he was remaining true to his word. He let his fears and frustrations die and put my wellness first.

When the procedure got uncomfortable, one of the nurses took my hand and held it. She spoke encouraging words to me. When I glanced at the clock I wondered how I was going to make it much longer. Both my arms, raised above my head, had fallen asleep. The nurses came to my rescue and repositioned them. These angels of mercy were dying for me, with me. They made a challenging situation compassionate.

I knew exactly when things shifted for the doctor. The room lightened up immediately and the tension dissipated. We were almost done and I breathed a sigh of relief. He discovered that there was still one more thing he needed to do. Mustering up that courage planted deep inside of me, I felt the wire re-enter my body for a final time. Another x-ray showed that he was now finally done.

A kind and compassionate nurse came over to me and took my hand, saying that I had done well. I was exhausted and relieved. The doctor was very pleased with the outcome. Now I know that in the darkness of my body my liver will grow in order to be reborn. Like that grain of wheat, it must become something new and necessary.

There is a darkness to this health journey that cannot win. Yet there is also another darkness that must be present–the one that gives birth to new creation. This darkness transforms into something amazing. May the seeds that are being planted create in me a strong body, a clean heart and a new spirit within me.

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Love Rooted

Posted on March 19, 2015 by sstyves

IMG_8970
We celebrated a wonderful Deaf woman’s 98 years today with stories and memories, songs and Scripture. We filled a big church and stayed for hours afterwards. She was surely smiling down upon us, even if we shed a few tears at our loss. We gathered in the same church where we had gathered when her daughter died. We gathered again for her husband. I looked around at the many people there and knew that Love had found roots in her life and it spilled out over to all of us.

Walking in, I found myself taking a deep breath. It was her daughter’s somewhat sudden death 8 months after my sister’s that help to bond her and I in new ways. I stared up at the stunning stained glass window at the front of the church and remembered how hard that funeral was. All of us were shell-shocked and heart-broken for the family. Jean and I would find quiet moments to share about our grief. I was ahead of her, stumbling along but able to turn on occasion and cast a beam of light into her darkness.

This woman was the matriarch of our Deaf community. She lived completely, even in her grief. I listened as her granddaughter read a letter composed by her mother, the remaining daughter. Her grandson who I used to walk up and down the halls at the interpreter service at the very beginning of my career when he was just weeks old now paid tribute to his hero as he called her. The former pastor of the Church of the Deaf entertained us with stories from decades long ago. Jean who had friends of all ages was well-eulogized by a woman with whom she used to work.

My own wonderful memories of Jean flitted through my mind as I listened. She was a proud wife, mother and grandmother. She was a friend to many because she was a remarkable listener. I often said that she was the wisest person I knew. A couple of years back I had visited her in the hospital one day and even though her eyesight was failing, she examined–because she did not merely look at–a photobook of my most recent trip with great interest. Her curiosity and keen mind did not miss a beat. She had questions and brilliant comments. Spending time with Jean was pure pleasure. She delighted in life and by osmosis drew in those around her to our own happy places. Throughout my career, she was a supportive cheerleader. She was that way for most of us, even if we were having an off day. Never a bad word was given. She was simply grateful for the service and always said thank you.

A woman of an era fading, she was one of those kind and polite people who blessed anyone who encountered her. I pray that we might all find the grace to shower one another with blessings like she did. I do not think there were many encounters that I left her without a big smile on my face or a warm feeling in my heart for her. Even in our saddest sharings, she gave me a joy of the privilege of seeing her soul. I was trying to find a photo I had taken with her at her 95th birthday party but I could not. She was so happy that day. She loved people in a deeply rooted way and we loved her back. It made me think of a Winnie the Pooh quote I read the other day: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Tonight as I sign off, I realize how lucky–how blessed–I am to have journeyed with Jean. I have a longing to emulate Jean’s joy. If I can live with such impact on our world, I will have kept a piece of Jean alive.

How do you wish to honour someone that you have loved and lost?

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

“I’ve Got This”

Posted on March 18, 2015 by sstyves

IMG_20150318_113520
Resting has never come easy to me. I am a doer. I try hard to be, but my mind rarely stays still. I awoke early this morning and my mind flitted from thought to thought. The journey towards healing is now picking up pace. There is both relief and fear in that. I am no superhero. I embrace the fact that I am a loved sinner and know that I am yoked to Christ each step.

I lay still, deep breathing, this morning, and let the tears fall. Friday I will undergo a medical procedure that means there is no turning back. I hand my body, but not my spirit, over to the doctors. Once that procedure happens the rest is very much in God’s hands. The surgeon has been very clear about the risks that are involved each step of the way. The procedure itself is not bad, though it has risks. The doctor will go in and cut off blood supply to one of two veins that supply the liver with nutrients. This will shrink that diseased part of the liver where the tumours are and allow the healthy side to regenerate. I marvel at this miracle. Medicine has come such a long way to be able to do such an amazing feat and God has made our bodies unbelievably remarkable.

My mind wandered over to my father, resting in his hospital bed across the city. His body is fast recovering from its trauma. He has been up walking on his new knee already. Our bodies are made to be resilient, and more importantly, I believe our spirits are too. I had Dad all to myself last night and he was in an unusually chatty mood. He has not shared easily about his life so when he does, he gets my full attention.

A previous family doctor had refused to slate him for this surgery because he thought Dad would never survive. A new doctor thought differently and could see that the excruciating pain Dad experienced was diminishing his quality of life. Dad, and all of us, knew the outcome of this surgery could be fantastic or heartbreaking. Clearly Dad had been doing a lot of thinking about his life. In Ignatian terms, he had done a graced history without even knowing it. The stories of his memories came out with grace, touching stories about his older sister and youngest brother. He had wandered through his life and I hope, as with a graced history, had given thanks for so much. His pride in his siblings shone in his eyes. I was honoured to receive each memory on behalf of our family. This will be an encounter to remember and be part of my own graced history.

As I continued to lay in bed, my mind returned to my own body, and I did the morning ritual I am now accustomed to of laying my hands on my liver and heart as I pray for healing. My breathing slowed again. I let God’s love and mercy wash over me. I breathe out the fear and anxiety and breathe in peace and healing. I see myself as whole and well. My mind wanders after awhile so it is time to get moving.

I return some emails and realize that if I hurry I can make it to mass and go to Adoration afterwards. After mass, I sit at the back of the church and stare at the statue of the Sacred Heart from afar. I breathe deeply again and I place myself in the centre of Jesus’ Sacred Heart. Jesus and I have an intimate, personal relationship. I sit there breathing, eyes closed now. I see Jesus place his hands on my head. I wait and feel the warmth pulsate through my body. Then I feel him lean forward and place his forehead on mine. We stand there, in my mind’s eye, and he is silent but breathing in synch with me. I return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation where the priest reminded me that Jesus is in the silence. I cannot describe how glorious it feels to stand with Christ in this Holy Silence and feel his deep love for me. My eyes brim with tears. I hear a parishioner tell her husband that she is just going to check in with me and she will meet him outside in a minute. I pull myself away from the vision and open my eyes, still teary. She greets me, this woman, and asks if there is news. “Friday,” I respond, “the procedure is Friday.” Suddenly, the tears well up and she reacts too: “You are too important to us for anything to happen to you.” I simply nod, and whisper my thanks.
IMG_20150318_113704

After she leaves, I sit for another moment and then move towards the chapel. I pass the beautiful stained glass window of St. Ignatius and his encounter with God at the river. We all have our moments when we encounter the holy. God is there in the hard moments if we seek God in all things. I was about to discover this again as I knelt before the Blessed Sacrament in Adoration.

I start with praise and thanks. I once again slow my breathing. After awhile I sit back on a chair and lean my head against the chapel wall. I am grateful for the vision of the Sacred Heart. I clear my mind and another image takes shape. I am carrying a heavy cross. I fall. I am on the ground, on my hands and knees, and I am staring at the ground, crying. I want to pick up that cross again but I need to rest a moment. At once, I know that Jesus is there. My eyes turn upward as he is stooping down, cupping my face with his hand. “I’ve got this,” he tells me tenderly. “I.have.you….and them.” The sense of relief at those last two words penetrate me. I let them settle into my soul.

Last night a friend asked me what scared me the most. It is still the one thing I cannot control–the pain that my being sick and possibly dying brings to people. Each inviting into my journey still feels like a burden–the Simons forced to carry the cross with me. Yet almost every person responds to the invitation with such grace and love, it is me that holds a great privilege. Today a friend sent an article regarding holding space, which is a willingness to join someone, in this case me, here in the uncertainty of the desert and be, yes, that elusive be, with me.

I have often thought about those who do not have the resources I have and how challenging it must be. Yesterday’s Gospel about the sick man who had lain a long time before the healing waters without anyone to put him in reminds me that not everyone is as blessed as me. I find myself wanting to pray for these people, and entrust them to Christ who will find them, even if the rest of us disappoint them.

Jesus however has them. He has this, too. He has the outcome already. He has me. He has you. Words cannot express my gratitude for this. Let our hearts take courage as we walk together.

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

You Are Light

Posted on March 15, 2015 by sstyves

Chirstmasballs
Sometimes the way light catches something mesmerizes me. I watch how something sparkles or changes colour and wonder if that is how God’s Light influences me. Today’s Second Reading from Ephesians 5 encourages us: You are light. Live as children of light. In the alternative readings today, the theme is Light. Today is Laetare Sunday–a day for joy in the middle of Lent. A day to celebrate the Light that has overcome the darkness. Whichever Gospel is used today both talk about Light. John 3 says that the light has come into the world, but people loved the darkness more. John 9 shares the story of the man who is blind from birth–who has lived in darkness all of his life until Jesus heals him.

When I took my Introduction to Religious Studies course, I had to write a creation myth. I chose to write a story that said we were once all Beings of Light until we fell from Grace. I got 100% on that paper. The story burst forth easily from me. I think I understand that we are Light and we must live as children of the Light. Perhaps that is where my fascination with light comes from.

The inner most workings of our heart show whether we are striving for the Light or the dark. The disciples ask Jesus a question about the reason this man is blind, casting blame on him or his parents. Jesus stands in the Light and responds neither. Our minds and heart are limited. We must find a reason for our predicament. I know some people may be wondering what I have done to have liver cancer. I have lived a clean life–not much alcohol and no street drugs. I have gotten my vaccinations when I have traveled to faraway countries. I have tried not to harbour anger and pettiness. It seems like such a cruel joke on the one hand. On the other hand, I do ask myself, why not me? Who is cancer reserved for? I remember years ago when my friend Ginny was sick I raged about the unfairness of it all. My thinking perhaps has evolved some. No one deserves to suffer and as with Samuel in the First Reading as he peruses all of Jesse’s sons, he does not see with God’s eyes when trying to pick his successor. The Lord looks on the heart, we are told. The Lord knows the answers to questions we have. Only the Lord can explain why some things happen.

The Lord alone knows my heart and I would humbly say that the Lord is pleased. As with Jesus and the blind man, he does not blame me for my illness. I do not love the darkness more than the Light. I know I am Light. I am a child of the Light. I am rejoicing and praising my Maker on this Sunday in the desert, where Hope springs and promise of a resurrection is near. A paraphrase of the Entrance Antiphon would be: Rejoice! Be joyful all who were in mourning; exult and be satisfied. Raise your voices. Turn towards the Light.

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Embrace Empathy

Posted on March 14, 2015 by sstyves

Ontario travels 012

In our hands we hold fragile feelings some days. The emotions can get crushed in the wrong hands. I have been counting my blessings these weeks and months that I am surrounded by caring and gentle friends. I am well aware that words that are meant to be kind can instead sting. Today’s Gospel has the repentant tax collector, standing off, not looking toward heaven, but instead striking his breast in shame and begging, “Be merciful unto me, O God, a sinner!” I have certainly been there. I have said and done the wrong things at crucial times. We all have.

During my illness most people have said the right things and to be honest what people need to hear varies. For me, I try to remain positive so when people react with negativity and gloom, that is not helpful. As many identities are stripped away from me, I have a need to maintain some activities and interests that I love to do. I need people to recognize that too as they try to help in other areas. I am trying to balance the optimism with reality so I do not always need people to cheerlead in case I am dealing with hard news. I am trying to stay in the present moment–and yes–sometimes that moment sucks so stay there with me. We can do it together. For those who need to leap to the future, you go alone, because I am not accompanying you and your fears. For my friends who have been here and are here with their own illness, I hear you and I take heart in your story. You might need something different than me and that is important for people to know too. You may need to hear one thousand hopeful stories to conquer your fear. You may need to rant and rave. You may need someone to be a Puddleglum. What is helpful is to try to tell people what you need in a kind and loving manner.

For those who do not know what to say or do, maybe that is more than ok. In fact, Brene Brown has this neat little clip that came out on empathy and she says that might be the best stance to take. If you click on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Evwgu369Jw Brene talks about empathy being a much healthier place than sympathy. Empathy, she says, in this video, fuels connection, where sympathy actually disconnects. I have felt that disconnection with people sometimes on this journey and have wished I could say something to people to help them connect. This blog is one way of attempting to do that.

I have had two men and one woman say to me that it has been a privilege for them to learn the news and accompany me. The first time I heard that word, it jarred me. A privilege seems an odd word but I found it consoling. I believed I was giving people a burden to bear–and these men helped me to realize that it is a gift. I gift you with my hard news because I care about you and I want you to share this journey. You return the gift when you receive it respectfully and agree to yoke yourself to my suffering in small and simple ways. I have said, and I will say again, the best action you can do is pray for me.

Like that tax collector in the Gospel, I am aware of my own sinful nature, and I ask for mercy for the times that I have been less than gracious on this path. My tiredness sometimes get the best of me and I snap. People say that challenges call forth the best and worst in a person. I pray for more grace so that the best raises its head more often than the worst. I also add my own desire to embrace empathy when I can. I know this news is hard and I do not want to add to certain people’s pain by hurting them. I hope to behave more like a wounded healer than a wounded heel, but I know I will fall short some days. I know those who are important to me will forgive me and I hope they know I forgive them when they mess up.

God be merciful to us as we plod along this path. May we know your abundant grace and love.

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cracking Eggs

Posted on March 12, 2015 by sstyves

IMG_9430

The Lenten Mission continued last night with the facilitator sharing the story of Romero’s courageous act to reclaim the church that had been desecrated. The courage of an archbishop and his faithful people change the stubborn hearts of the soldiers who eventually move out of the way, allowing the people to claim what is rightfully theirs. They do not let the fear of death prevent them from doing the right thing.

The questions for last night were what fears do you want to let go of? What challenge do you need to embrace? Is there a person or a dream or a part of your history that you need to let go? The facilitator likened us to an egg that is about to break open–there is a newness wanting to come out.

I could not help but think that prior to the newness a brokenness must occur. There is no birth without a ripping or tearing. Easter is no different. To get there, Good Friday must be lived. The lily does not bloom without the death of a seed.

After the formal part of the mission, reconciliation took place. As I came before the priest, my heart was both heavy and free. I have no illusions that the surgery I have to go through has many risks. I remain hopeful and positive but there is a sobering to knowing that life, like that Easter lily, is fragile. For years, I have loved the sacrament of reconciliation. Last night was no different. This particular priest clearly takes his duties seriously and reverently, as do I in this sacrament. The healing that Catholics receive when properly confessing is extraordinary. I left the encounter stronger and wiser, knowing that God loves this beloved daughter. The closing ritual was to place a little Easter egg in a vase. I picked up my blue egg and held it for a moment, grateful, and then I dropped it into the community of eggs waiting for mine.

Will you let your egg be cracked this Lent?

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

We Are Connected

Posted on March 11, 2015 by sstyves

018
Tonight was the second evening of the parish Lenten Mission. We have brought in a Jesuit who happens to have had the most profound influence on my faith journey. This afternoon some of us gathered in the Educational Centre to watch the film, Romero, the story of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador. Romero’s journey is the theme of this year’s mission. I have seen the film before and sometimes when I direct retreatants I have them watch it as a third or fourth week meditation.

Romero’s transformation is remarkable. A bookworm that the Church and government thought would be a perfect puppet turns a country on its head and to this day calls us all to look at what is possible should we open our hearts to the least of these. In tonight’s mission, we heard that Romero was a man of prayer who sought the heart of God. Initially, he did so with some rigor but eventually, through a chain of events, we see his heart cut to the quick and a new man emerges. This one sides with the poor and the oppressed. He slowly interacts with the people and sees the repression firsthand with new eyes after his Jesuit priest friend, Fr. Grande, is assassinated.

Fr. Grande inspired Archbishop Romero and was a catalyst for a major life change. Tonight, the congregation was invited to consider a person that we were grateful for on our own journey, someone who had inspired us on our faith walk. Dozens of people flitted through my mind, including the facilitator of the retreat. As many of you know, I have traveled the world, sometimes serving instead of holidaying. I believe I owe it to this Jesuit, who at the daily 5:15 evening mass decades ago, would preach in a way that stirred my young heart. He challenged all of us to have a preferential option for the poor, as any good Jesuit should. My life has never been the same. I started attending the parish in 1985 and two years later I boarded a plane for my first trip to Africa. The purpose of the final week of the 19th Annotation had sunk in long before I even knew about the Exercises.

I hold the card that we got tonight and wonder how I can choose just one person to be grateful for inspiring me on my faith journey. As the Mission facilitator explained what the homework assignment was I thought of the great cloud of witnesses from my parish that have helped to shape me. I have been remarkably blessed by the elders of my church who have invited me into the community and asked me not just to sit in the pews but to come alive and thrive within and beyond the walls of the church. How can I thank just one person? How incredibly blessed am I to be part of something so amazing?

Tonight as I head to bed, I am so very grateful for all the people who have shaped my faith journey, including Archbishop Romero, even though I have never met him. We are the body of Christ and we do not walk alone. Praise be God!

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Never Thirsty

Posted on March 8, 2015 by sstyves

146

We are a thirsty people without buckets some days. Today, International Women’s Day, has me focusing on the alternate readings for the First Scrutiny, this third Sunday of Lent. I am remembering my trips to Kenya and DR Congo where I watched women and children toting water miles from local water pipes or holes. In Canada, we buy bottled water when we do not need to….well, most of us. Not too far from my home, some reserves do not have water for their First Nations people. That was recently highlighted by a boil-water alert.

Water is precious. Water is life-giving. In John’s Gospel of the woman at the well, we see that there is a more life-giving resource that we can turn to. A woman who is rejected by society is the one who finds herself having a casual conversation with Christ. He commands her to give him a drink. He does not even say please. This woman though questions him in return: How is it that you….? Suddenly this casual conversation becomes charged.

Jesus eventually remarks that she will never be thirsty again with the life-giving water he offers. In return, she begs for that water but she does not yet comprehend what he means. When he presses her about personal information, she is stunned to realize he knows things about her that he cannot. At last, Jesus reveals who he is: I am he. She moves into action by telling everyone she meets about her encounter. She is one of the first evangelists and many came to believe because of her testimony.

How thirsty are we as Christians? Do we recognize the One who gives us a glass of a life-giving liquid before we know who we are talking to? Can we comprehend that Christ knows every single detail about us, but does not judge us for our shortcomings? Have we understood that he points the way when we are lost? Jesus wants to shower us with preciousness. Will you let him?

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

This Cup

Posted on March 6, 2015 by sstyves

235 When I was in Nairobi a few years back, I stayed with Pastor Bob and his family. He invited me to peruse his library and read anything that appealed to me. I was captivated by a title by John Ortberg: If You Want to Walk on Water, You Have to Get Out of the Boat. It is a great book and I bought myself a copy when I came home and finished reading it. It is the story of Peter getting out of the boat to join Jesus on the sea. I should maybe read that book again as I am needing to keep my eyes on Christ these days so that I do not begin to sink.

I was delighted when I opened Ann Voskamp’s blog today and saw that John had joined her on the farm’s front porch. He was the guest blogger today on Ann’s A Holy Experience. I was so excited by this surprise visit. He wrote about which six words might summarize your life. I was not sure that I wanted to stay with that exercise but I did enjoy reading the renderings of others. He mentioned another book of his: All the Places to Go: How Will You Know? which discusses the doors that God opens in our lives. Do we walk through them? Do we close them and turn away, down a different path? He says one of those six-word summaries might be: Not quite what I was planning.

I lingered there and read some of his suggestions for some biblical characters about their life summaries. Not many of those characters would have predicted either the amazing adventures or the terrible trials they would undergo. Mr. Ortberg had me by then, as I knew he would. If God places us before a door, can we walk through it because it means the possibility of being useful to God? Wow! I am faced right now with not wanting to walk through a door, not wanting this Lent to drink the cup I am being given. I have been praying, as a good Jesuit collaborator, that if I have to that it would all be for the glory of God. If I can somehow be useful to God in this cancer journey, then I hope and pray that I have the grace to continue.

Yes, you read correctly. The surgeon believes I have cancer–a rare form of liver cancer. I am standing before a door to the Unknown and gathering up every ounce of courage to walk it. Until the tumours are removed, he won’t know exactly the details of the cancer, but he is pretty certain of it being cancer. I am no superhero. I would much rather not walk this walk. I am doing Lent with Christ in the garden and completely comprehending why he wanted the cup taken away, as his disciples who would be crushed with grief, lay sleeping nearby. This is not a solo journey, but rather a communal one. If it were just about me, I could stand freely in the letting go. However, it is not just about me and that makes this cup a bittersweet one.

I am getting out of the boat, standing before the door, looking at the cup, and wondering what to pray for. I return to Grace and to keeping my eyes on the Suffering Servant. Surely, I will find my answer there. I seem to have been served a not quite what I was planning drink. As Ann Voskamp would say these are the hard Eucharistos. I am giving thanks for many gifts these days, including in Ignatian terms, the hard consolations. I am not in desolation. God is very much right here with me and for that I am very grateful. A spiritual director friend of mine joined me for Adoration one afternoon, and she, who does not usually see such things, turned to me and saw Christ’s mantle covering me. The protection of God is always there, I heard on my pilgrimage this summer while I was at the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal. I feel cloaked in my faith and find strength to rise. I hope you find the same blessings if you join me on this journey.

Peace,

Suzanne

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments