The Way to the Heart

Today I find myself with few words, but I found a reflection I had recorded from a book I ran across somewhere by Henri Nouwen.  It offers a beautiful perspective on the little things of life that are so important even when they seem so trivial:

Small signs of friendliness can create much joy, and small disturbances between people much sadness, while the "great events" of the day often do not touch us so deeply.  An unexpected note from a friend or the passing remark from a neighbor can make or break my day emotionally, while inflation and recession, war and oppression do not touch my emotions directly.  A distant catastrophe has less effect than a nearby mishap, and an interpersonal tiff raises more hackles than a world-wide calamity....

But how little do we use this knowledge?  What is easier than writing a thank-you note, than sending a card "just to say hello," or to give a call "just to see how things have been."  But how seldom do I do this?  Still, I realize that every time someone says, "I liked your talk" or "I appreciated your remark" or "Your note really helped" or "You really seem to feel at home here"--I feel my inner life being lifted up and the day seems brighter, the grass greener, and the snow whiter than before.  Indeed, the great mystery is that a small, often quite immaterial gesture can change my heart so much.  The way to the heart always seems to be a quiet, gentle way.

-Mornings with Henri J.M. Nouwen: Readings and Reflections

Eight Years Ago Today

It is rather surreal to think that eight years have passed since that feast of Saint Francis when I set out with only one comrade upon a pilgrimage of about two months and three hundred miles.  I marvel at the faith and daring I had then.  I wonder if I would still have that much courage and trust were I to feel the call pull at my heart now.

Many thoughts and feelings still surface as I reflect upon that time.  I am sure it was a time of much grace, but it was also full of so much difficulty and darkness—full of the cross.

For a long time afterward I found it painful to think of the pilgrimage despite the moments of beauty.  Yet time and grace have healed the wounds of things not turning out as I expected and the suffering caused by less-than-pure intentions, bringing me face to face with the mercy and providence of God.

Many times I wondered whether I had chosen wrongly.  It is so easy to think of our efforts being soiled by our pride, selfishness, vainglory, or other sins, and to therefore turn away from action.  That is true especially for those of us inclined toward perfectionism.  We see that we have acted for ourselves and not for God alone and consequently begin to imagine that we can never do anything good or that all our efforts are in vain, but there the enemy trips us up in the age-old lie of pride disguised so falsely as humility.

Peace comes when we unmask that lie.  We can rest serene in the arms of Providence when we know that we are not in control—that He is God and we are not.

We try to love in order to receive the results we desire or to help people to make ourselves feel better.  We try to witness to our faith or support some political agenda in order to strengthen our self-esteem.  So many things we do right for the wrong reasons. Yet whatever our flaws, whatever our sins, He is stronger.

If God can bring good out of something so horrible as the crucifixion, why should we doubt His power to bring good out of our good actions done with flawed intentions?  He does all the time.  We only have to surrender yet again, falling humbly on our knees before Him and letting Him work.

So I try to do now as I continue forward, step by step, day by day, going on into eternity, carrying the burden of my cross forged of my own sins.

I do not remember only the darkness or only the sinfulness.  I remember also the joys, the trust, the abandonment to Divine Providence.  I remember how He provided for us all along the way, often with overwhelming and delightful surprises.

Much has changed since then and much remains the same.  So it ever seems to be.

On pilgrimage 2009

On pilgrimage 2017

I am on a different pilgrimage now.  It is interior more than external, but it is a pilgrimage all the same.  With each passing day, I feel the power and weight of that immense decision made that day that feels so long ago.  I continue on buoyed by faith as I carry you and your intentions in my heart....

Surprise

Today I had the absolutely splendid experience of surprise in so many ways.  I had forgotten how delightful surprises are and what joy they bring.

I knew that I had been struggling and that I was becoming weighted down, but I did not realize quite how much dryness I was experiencing until I received the surprising gift of consolation.  Somehow the dryness always comes upon us slowly.  We think we are doing well, joyfully facing life with all of its challenges, taking care of ourselves and striving to be the best people we can be.  Then slowly, bit by bit, the feelings subside without our quite realizing it.

When I think of surprise, I always think of Chesterton's play of that name.  There are some particularly striking portions from that play that talk about our desire for surprise:

POET. Oh, my God, what am I? Mud out of the highway soiling your carpets; a rag blown over the wall. But will you let me speak one moment for all the ragged people on the road, the truth that your officers do not tell you; what I know out of the very mouths of the poor of God?

PRINCESS. What in the world do they want?

POET. They want surprise. They do not want sufficiency or security. They want surprise. They do not want regular wages. They want irregular wealth. You say they can always find a pig at the pig-trough and ale in the ale-cask. If ever, one fine morning, they found the pig in the ale-cask and could drink ale out of the pig-trough—they would think they were in a fairy tale.

Is this not so?  We think that we want security.  We think that we want what we want.  Yet who has ever been happy with receiving exactly what he asks for?  At least not happy for long.  Always we move on to the next thing that we want, the next thing that will fill the aching emptiness in our heart.

Everyone wants the surprise of winning the lottery or some rich relative to appear and bequeath us some vast fortune.  It is not just that we want the money, but we want the surprise.

There is something ingrained deep in our hearts that makes us desire surprise.  I find it particularly fitting today to think of surprise because of it being the Solemnity of the Annunciation, the Incarnation, which is the greatest surprise of all.  For what greater surprise could there be than that God should become Man?  He remains the God of surprises, answering our prayers when we least expect them and bestowing upon us beautiful gifts we never expected, ever moving in new and surprising ways throughout our lives.