This morning, sitting here in my cozy cottage by the sea, sun streaming in, water sparkling, snow giving off light, I read this by Thomas Merton: ‘Only the man who has had to face despair is really convinced he needs mercy.’
‘Mercy,’ I say to myself, ‘Is that true for me?’ I’ve never, and I mean never, faced despair. And that’s not just because I’m an optimist and was born to see the cup half full. The truth is, my life has not had despair: no tragic deaths in family during my lifetime, not even early deaths; good citizens; good health for all.
Questions arise. Has there been despair, that due to lack of compassion, I just haven’t noticed or let into my heart? If so, could that be a good thing because in responding in the light more than the dark, I offer hope? Am I prepared for despair? What is mercy, anyway?
I know these are questions to ponder, not to be answered in any definitive way. As I sit here, light pouring into the cottage, I try to stay grateful and offer light. It’s my way. Maybe it’s God’s form of mercy to me.
‘Mercy,’ I say to myself, ‘Is that true for me?’ I’ve never, and I mean never, faced despair. And that’s not just because I’m an optimist and was born to see the cup half full. The truth is, my life has not had despair: no tragic deaths in family during my lifetime, not even early deaths; good citizens; good health for all.
Questions arise. Has there been despair, that due to lack of compassion, I just haven’t noticed or let into my heart? If so, could that be a good thing because in responding in the light more than the dark, I offer hope? Am I prepared for despair? What is mercy, anyway?
I know these are questions to ponder, not to be answered in any definitive way. As I sit here, light pouring into the cottage, I try to stay grateful and offer light. It’s my way. Maybe it’s God’s form of mercy to me.
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