Revelation

I do some of my best thinking in the midst of a piping hot shower at the end of the day.

I hopped in this morning at around 1:00, as some activities in my townhouse (for lack of a better word) kept me confined to my room for a while. By then, I was exhausted and depressed--after spending the night with great friends, the adrenaline and caffeine wore off, and I crashed hard.

Though as I accidentally tried to lather up with shampoo instead of shower gel (did I mention exhaustion?), I had a random thought that stopped me in my tracks.

I spent a few peaceful moments yesterday in front of the tabernacle in our tiny upstairs chapel. While there, for once the emptiness dropped away, replaced with calm. I can't say I had faith in that moment, but I prayed with ease for the first time in a long time.

Pondering over the afternoon, I was cheered up by Father dragging me out to sit in the sun, and the unprompted support of several close friends. The gratitude was humbling.

And then it hit me:

What if...it's not God who's ceased to console us, but us who have shut out His love?

Have you ever been so emotionally raw, perhaps after a great loss, that the embrace of a loved one doesn't even begin to mend the wound? I'm beginning to wonder if that just might be the case with me.

Just before this whole mess began, I was dealing with a terrible anger at God over some issues. Rather than working through them, I chose to pretend He just wasn't real--it would be much easier than accepting the Cross, I thought.

And when I shut that door, it suddenly became too heavy for me to open again. Literally overnight, my heart grew hard, and I was completely unconvinced of God's reality. Like quicksand, I found myself sinking and with every step I made to escape, I went deeper.

That's where I find myself right now. But I think there is so much to be said for just opening ourselves up to that Love! We celebrated Divine Mercy Sunday this weekend, my favorite feast, and essentially that devotion is rooted in the belief that God's unfathomable Mercy is beyond even our greatest pain.

He wants to heal me, and like a wounded animal, I'm too ensnared in my fears and worries to let it take root. I think it's time to try.

Please pray for me!