Because She Asked Me To

I am so distant.  God is there, very close. But I, I am far away.  December has been one of those months.  For some reason, I can't seem to bring myself to a confessional.  I can't seem even to bring myself to much prayer.  Last night, I laid in bed, In Conversation With God in hand, and there it was, all right before. And I, I was distant.

I read about interior mortification.  I knew, though much of me wanted to hide it, that this would not be easy.  I take such delight in the wandering of my mind. Last night, I was reminded of just how much that deprives God of me now. Or rather, how much that deprives me of God.

I didn't want to pray. I would say that I couldn't. I would claim that Satan or something had a hold on me that I couldn't escape. But it wouldn't be true.  The biggest thing I was fighting was myself.

The prayer that has come so easily to me lately struggled to fight its way to the surface. What was the point really?  Even Mary seemed so far away.  In her I saw condemnation. I saw disappointment.  I saw the harsh reality of all that scared me. Would I dare to draw close?  Would the terrible judgment of her gaze break me apart.  Suddenly I knew, though I certainly didn't feel, that this was not the woman I have come to love. And the woman that she is, wanted me to draw close.

And so I prayed those ancient words.  Not because I wanted to. Not because it was the easiest thing to do, or because I saw a purpose.  I held my breath, shut my eyes tight, and through no power of my own I asked for Our Mother's powerful intercession because I knew that I should. Because she asked me to.

I Am Not She

Dearest Love,

Christmas is approaching.  As I journey through this season of preparing for Your humble yet glorious birth, I am reminded of the depth and power of Your love for me.  I want to try to express to You something of what my relationship with You means to me.

Life is not easy.  I am young, but I learned this lesson long ago.  So often my relationship with You suffers from shallowness of waters.  Many times, I am consumed by this world and its difficulties.  While Your love for me transcends into eternity, I myself am unable to move beyond the confines of this world.

I have said, on multiple occasions, that I cannot imagine my life without You.  I have said that all is confusing enough with You in my life.  Tonight, I question how much I have actually let You in.  I cannot deny, nor do I wish to, that every good thing in my life is a blessed gift from above, and that every good action is done only because of Your grace.  However, I wonder how much I am actually living this life without You.

In the depths of my heart, I think that I love You.  And I think that love is motivated by genuine intentions, that it is pure and selfless.  But how pure of a love can it be if I’m not allowing it to change me.  If I ignore promptings that are likely to be from You, I am no closer to You than had I never heard them.

I have learned a lot about You these past three and half years.  I do believe that You have wanted me to do so.  Somewhere along the way, or maybe this was a problem before these years started, I stopped asking to be transformed.  Many of my prayers became nothing more than thoughts directed at no one in particular.

I wanted to write a letter in which I could express to You how much I love You.  I wanted it to be filled with the beautiful language of which You are deserving.  I wanted to detail, in small ways, the joys and sorrows of this life we share together.  Instead, I am left lamenting.  The words necessary to express what I am like on the inside are not the words I long to use.

My Jesus, my sweet, loving Jesus, I am broken.  There is far too much of me, and far too little of You.  And I hear You calling Lord.  I hear the tenderness of Your beckon.  But my response is not coming easily.  My soul is nearly collapsing under the pressure of this moment.  Lord, I do not know how to say Yes.  Mary, Your Mother, my Mother … our Mother, lived so beautifully and so perfectly that for which I do long. I do. But I am not she.  I am not she…

But she will pray for me Lord.  And those who lived the faithful life before me will beg for me at the feet of Your Father.  And slowly, very slowly, my heart will change.  Do I believe that?  Will I live like I do?

I am here Lord.  My soul is fighting against the strong jaws of my flesh.  They want desperately to snap shut. To block You out. To remain the same.  They are trapped in the heavy chains of fear. And my soul is struggling. Struggling.

I need Your grace Jesus.  My Love.  I cannot ask for it enough. I cannot desire it enough.  I cannot be enough.  But Your grace is enough.  It will be enough.  It is enough.

HAPPY LITURGICAL NEW YEAR!!!

I love advent.  If fall is my favorite season of the secular year, then advent is my favorite season of the liturgical year.  The joyful anticipation that comes with advent is inspiring.  As I prepare my heart to enter into the mystery of the Incarnation again this year, there is excitement within in me.  It's as if soon (and very soon ;) ) I will encounter something big. Something huge. Something life-changing.  And while all of that depends in a large way on my ability to maintain a disposition that is open to grace, it all seems doable somehow.  Perhaps Our Mother Mary begs for us at the side of her Son a bit more fervently this time of year.  (It is likely that is not theologically correct.  It would probably be more accurate to say that as we enter more deeply and openly into her life, we ask for and receive more blessings through her and the hand of her Son.)  Maybe the hustle and bustle, though at times nothing more than a distraction, stirs us up just enough inside of us so that we aren't lazy.  We're moving.  We're active.

This advent I need to be centered.  I need to focus.  I need the kind of discipline that comes only from peace.  May Mother Mary be my guide.  Under her mantle, wrapped up in her prayers, maybe I'll be blessed with a small taste of what she was fully.  Maybe my heart will become more like hers.  Perhaps, through her intercession, I will learn to wait with the joyful, peaceful anticipation with which she waited all those years ago.

Maybe, just maybe, my waiting will be filled with humble surrender.

I Didn't Choose Mary...

...Mary chose me. On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I finished a consecration to the Blessed Mother. In his homily at mass, Prior James reflected on Mary at the cross. His point was that of her free will. She freely choose to accept us as her children. This revelation brought tears to my eyes. I have great hope in one day being a mother. I believe that is God's will for me. I have said before that I can almost feel the flames on my heart when I share with God my deepest longings for motherhood. When a woman wants to be a mother, she wants it with a heart bursting to pour out love on her children. I believe that it was with this kind of passionate love that Mary took on the role of our Mother. She chose to have us as her own. She chose to devote herself to pouring out love on us. The truly amazing thing is that it isn't her love that she pours out. When Mary pours out love upon us, as only a Mother can, it the love her of Son that she gives. Through her giving of love, we are drawn ever closer to Him. Mary conceived without sin, Pray for us.