Fire

"Amen I say to you, unless you be converted, and become as little children...."
~Matthew 18:3

Oil light flickers red warning.
Pressing the gas, I lose power.
Smoke billows behind the car.

Seeking safety on the highway's side
Leaves a rainbow trail of oil.
Fire flickers under the hood.

Alone, I know I am not alone.
Calm, I call for help, which comes
In flashing lights.  Fatherly firemen
Clamber down across the ivy.

My heart beats like that of a child
Excited at the moment, unworried,
For the Father has all in His hand.

His Providence pours out in my Dad
Who comes to rescue me and wait
For a tow, while I, wrapped in love,
Go home, lips moving to our Lady.

A Day Reflecting a Lifetime: Wisdom from the End of the Third Decade

As I lifted my canoe to my shoulder and walked with it down to the lake, I had no thought of finding spiritual reflection.  I wanted simply to enjoy time spent in nature as a way to celebrate reaching the completion of three decades in this mortal coil.  Yet somehow that connection back to creation could not help but stir the soul toward connection with the Creator and that connection must needs shed light upon our wandering journey upon this earth.

Dipping my paddle in the lake first on one side of the canoe and then the other, I made my wending way across its surface, not knowing where I would end up or how long I could go on while the sun beat hot upon me.  I could have grown discouraged at my lack of progress as I struggled on, watching kayaks pass me with bows straight while my canoe's bow turned back and forth, floundering about a bit like a dying fish.  The delightful thing about a piece of plastic folded into a canoe—I call it my origami canoe—is its lightness, but of course that very lightness means it takes little to send it back and forth from side to side as if it had no clear sense of direction.  Each stroke of my paddle as I knelt in its center moved me as much to right or left as it did forward.  Every wave, no mater how small, and every breath of wind pushed me about in some direction or other.

Instead of growing discouraged as I do when things go awry in the minutiae of daily life I found my mind turned to reflection.  My journey across the lake became an analogy for life.

I tend to think that one ought to set one's sight on a goal and head directly toward it without turning to one side or the other, pursuing one's vocation and life purpose with unfailing success.  Yet somehow the path across the years seems rather to wend back and forth across the waters of life.

Alone in the canoe I could not keep a straight course.  It would have been easier with a companion, for we would have balanced each other's paddle strokes, working in unison toward that goal.  A companion too would have broken the silence that hung about me and seemed to wrap me about in a strange sort of contemplation.

It was not the doing that mattered even though the working of my muscles to send the canoe skimming across the waters gave me a feeling of strength, of belonging, of doing what I was created to do.  It was being that mattered more.  Instead of needing, seeking, striving, and a hundred other verbs describing our efforts to take control, I was responding gently to what came to me, breathing in the fresh air, as free as the proverbial child.

Why do we not live so?  Why do we fret and worry ourselves into illness or misery on account of the littlest things?

Sometimes I wonder whether this lack of peace and the rampant anxiety and depression in our society comes solely from this frenzied life that we live in this modern world we like to consider progressive and advanced and enlightened.  Have we achieved these seemingly-good adjectives only at the expense of our inner peace?  Perhaps even at the expense of contemplation?

Then I must wonder how much we would give up to regain that peace. Would we surrender all that we hold dear in order to cross the void of emptiness into that great work of the soul that is God's gift of contemplation?

Perhaps then we might forget our faltering footsteps and breathe in unison with a deeper force: the breath that stirred the waters at creation.

Veni Sancte Spiritus!

You Are in the Hands of God

“Do not become upset when difficulty comes your way.  Laugh in its face and know that you are in the hands of God.”

These words come from a wise and holy man often quoted in the letters of one of my favorite spiritual writers, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J.  That man is Saint Francis de Sales whose feastday we celebrate today and who is known as the patron saint of writers.

Although I do not know whether Saint Francis de Sales ever used the exact phrase "abandonment to Divine Providence" his writings are full of that reality, as the above quotation illustrates.  For in it he essentially proclaims the most radical surrender to God.  Not only does he prescribe accepting difficulties or learning to endure them, but he goes much farther when he says to laugh in the face of difficulty.

Who can laugh in the face of poverty?  Who even smiles at the death of a loved one?  Who could find joy in utter destruction in the wake of some natural disaster?

We are no better when it comes to the small things.  We complain constantly about the most ridiculous of trifles.  We become despondent when things do not go as we expect and begin to try to figure out what we have done wrong that might have led to such unfortunate results.

For we still think we are in control.

No matter how much we believe that God exists and that He is all-powerful, we still hesitate to believe in the insignificance of our power.  We still cling madly to the Ring of Power despite the fact that another controls our will through it.

Saint Francis de Sales knew better:

"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day.  Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.  Be at peace, then, put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations, and say continually: The Lord is my strength and shield; my heart has trusted in Him and I am helped.  He is not only with me, but in me and I in Him.”

If we believe in the incredible power of God, in His infinite wisdom, and in His guidance of our lives, we need fear nothing.  We need not worry.  We can take joy in all the happenings in our lives and around us, knowing that God is using all for our greater good so long as we surrender our lives to Him.

We shall fall no doubt.  We cannot believe perfectly, frail human creatures that we are.

Yet Saint Francis de Sales had wise words on that reality also:

“God takes pleasure to see you take your little steps; and like a good father who holds His child by the hand, He will accommodate His steps to yours and will be content to go no faster than you.  Why do you worry?”

In all things, even in our surrender to Him, we can be content to continue making the effort.  We will fall, but we will get up.  Sometimes we will see the glory of all the little strands about us weaving together into a strong rope to lift us up into the brilliant light of the heavens.  Sometimes we will struggle along through the darkness, not knowing where we step.

“During the night we must wait for the light.” 

For at the opportune moment, He will intervene with a bright new dawn and in that morning we shall sing as we were created to sing.

Holy Saturday

Continuing with our meditations from said character, here is the one for today:

In silence, our Lady waited, perhaps in grief at the death of her Son and yet with great trust, for she who was conceived with no sin and remained without sin could not doubt the Lord's will. Surely she could not have known, nor understood, that He would rise from the dead any more than the apostles. Yet she trusted, waiting in the darkness of pure faith. What then did she expect? Did she wonder about the future, about what would happen? Her place was merely to accept and embrace all as the will of God, finding therein such intimate union that she needed nothing else. It was not for her to sit and grieve at her loss, at the dashing of all her hopes as some must have done, the apostles no less than the others, but rather she moved among them all with the same peace that had always graced her life, the same smile to encourage those who cowered in fear. Perhaps she spoke words to them of her trust in the Lord, but her presence spoke more than any words, and it was her presence that drew all she touched nearer to Him even without her knowing it.

Even then she must have been praying, pleading for those around her, especially those who seemed to be losing hope. As a mother it was her part to seek first the care of her Son, and so she did, even now in His death, for she served each person she met as if he had been her Son, as if he were indeed God Himself.

So it was that she found Him where no other could see Him, her heart ever the resting place of the Living God. So it was that she guided the Church in the pangs of its birth, when all seemed lost.

It was easy for others to forget her presence, to take for granted the peace she radiated. Few could have known the tremendous part she played in the salvation of the world; for her it was not enough to be the Mother of God: she had also to give her life for others in union with her Son, becoming the servant of all, and suffering all for love of Him, heeding only His will at each and every moment and never displeased that it was not her way, answering each temptation with the simple “fiat” that was her path to the heavens, leading across the sea to the glory of the risen Son.

Perfect Timing

As I sat in the plane on the runway, we were early, but waiting for a gate, directed from runway to runway, waiting—waiting as the minutes slipped by. Soon all minutes gained in flight were lost. Anxiety began to beat within. I had a tight connection and I began to fear I would not make it.

In Thy perfect timing, Lord, I said and let peace return to my soul. If He willed that I should miss the flight, I would trust that it was better that way and that He had arranged it so for a reason.

By the time we finally got a gate, it was still twenty minutes until departure time for my connection, so I was not unduly worried, even though it took a few more minutes to unload. Rather than push past the people ahead of me, I waited patiently, trusting that those few extra seconds would make little difference.

Then I came to the monitor with flight times and gates listed. I found mine and stared for a moment unsure what to do, for under boarding it said CLOSED.  And I did not yet know whether I might have to go to another terminal by which time it would surely be too late.

Still I had to try.  What else was there to do?

By perfect orchestration my departure gate was only two gates down from the one at which I had arrived.  It was only a few steps from where I stood staring at the list of departures.

Hurrying to the gate, I found no one ready to let me on, so I went up to the counter.  Others stood before me and I decided not to wait my turn.  Instead, I headed directly to the jetbridge, as if to board, meaning to ask those lounging about there whether boarding was indeed closed.

A woman came over and asked my name and then told me they had been waiting for me.  Of course they had waited.  No anxiety had been necessary.  As usual, the Lord had it all in hand.

In Thy perfect timing, Lord.

Things later that evening did not go quite so much according to plan and work out so conveniently, but that is a story for another day....

In Thy perfect timing, Lord.