I love the peace and quiet and the fog here at the cottage his morning as I sit here, feeling the pain of so many. A friend's son took his life; another friend's son is in a mental institution so he won't, a young mother I know has died of cancer, leaving a husband and their five year old daughter; a friends infant granddaughter is experience medical complications; and then there are all the issues of poverty, war, the earth. What to do? It’s hard to put this into words, but I feel that my job/calling is to hold (in prayer) the pain for these people and situations.
Mysteriously, all of this is pain is lifting me somewhere else. Closer to God? (I’m not certain if that’s the way to frame it, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.) With this prayer call I’m shifting from a mental ‘I’m sorry’ to a pain, ache, an experience of the heart. Prayer is no longer something I do mentally as much as something I feel compassionately. The sadness is intense, settled in deep in my being, not in my head. Yesterday I had a fear that it would overwhelm me toward depression; today it is settling in as a given for me by God. It’s very personal. Yesterday I wanted to share it with someone, some spiritual director or spiritual friend; today I’m fine sharing it with God (and on this blog).
Mysteriously, all of this is pain is lifting me somewhere else. Closer to God? (I’m not certain if that’s the way to frame it, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.) With this prayer call I’m shifting from a mental ‘I’m sorry’ to a pain, ache, an experience of the heart. Prayer is no longer something I do mentally as much as something I feel compassionately. The sadness is intense, settled in deep in my being, not in my head. Yesterday I had a fear that it would overwhelm me toward depression; today it is settling in as a given for me by God. It’s very personal. Yesterday I wanted to share it with someone, some spiritual director or spiritual friend; today I’m fine sharing it with God (and on this blog).
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