Friday, October 6, 2006

Dearest God,

I felt it coming on. I was shivering in the 46 degree yurt. My fault, I enjoy sleeping out, camping in the great outdoors. I love breathing in the cool, crisp air of Autumn and feeling the weight of comforters, blankets and lovingly-made hand sewn quilts on the bed. It reminds me of the unheated upstairs bedroom of Grandma's farmhouse where I breathe in memory after memory.

I felt tiny little scratches in the back of my throat. A cold or allergies I thought. Not one to let a tiny physical malady get me down, I took my nature walk in the misty morning. The hills alive with Fall colors, I felt alive as God and I conversed along the road.

But this week I began feeling tired. I worked long hours trying to get as much done as possible for the big mission trip. By the end of this week I just felt crummy. I made an appointment with my doctor, not wanting to unsettle my other health conditions as I planned my tasks in Mississippi.

An infection, the doctor told me, I had an infection, viral or bacteria, not sure which but since I would be away working in an unfamiliar place she wanted to give me antibiotics. "I know you're planning to leave tomorrow, but get as much rest as possible and drink lots of fluids. And call us, we have 24 hour coverage by phone, if you run into trouble." The doctor urged me. Determined to get some rest in the midst of a list of chores to be done before I left, I went home in the middle of the afternoon to sleep. I missed the church fish fry because I was sleeping and my husband didn't want to awaken me.

I'm staying behind. I feel worse, rather than better. My missionary friends will have to leave without me. Besides they might just drop me off by the side of the road with all my coughing in a tightly sealed car. I'm really disappointed!

What's the moral to my story? Get more rest? Drink more fluids? Don't work so hard? Old people have to take better care of themselves? Keep the temperature at 72 degrees? Moralism won't cut it.

For me it is about listening to God. And listening well. Was I destined to go to Mississippi? I sure thought so! Did God want me to leave my parish for a week to help hurricane victims? The answer seemed clear to me. I know they need the assistance. But perhaps God has a different plan.

Knowing the will of God is difficult for me at times. Sometimes I live in a fog, wondering, wandering, not quite sure what to do next. Through prayer I learn to trust God. But this week as I walked on the treadmill, I was holding others in prayer. There wasn't much of an opening for God to speak to me.

Being flexible, allowing each day to speak its own mysteries, leads me to the will of God. When I allow myself to be pliable in the hands of the Almighty, then I can bend to God's will. If not, I can crack and break. Been there, done that!

But when I am willing to follow God's perfect leading, I am like soft, warm clay in the Artist's hands. I can be reshaped, made into a new person. I can learn new skills, my talents can show, and I will delight to do what God desires.

How well I remember St. Bernadette, that young peasant girl of Lourdes, who fervently opened herself to the Master's will. Daily she sought His guidance. Unwilling to do anything but follow, (well, she did giggle and dance in the convent at times) she wanted to stay in the folds of God's garment, keeping in step, walking in the same direction.

At times I feel an urgency to follow, to listen, to cling to that same garment. More than anything I want that same closeness. I delight in bringing joy to the God who has given me an overflowing fountain of joy. I know no joy greater.

As I take a picture of my friends who will tend to the suffering in Mississippi and watch them drive away, I will remember that following God's will, remaining close to the Master is my heart's delight. I will miss being there. If God desires it, I will one day go, sharing my gifts and love. But for now standing beside God is God's will for me.

O Mighty One,
what joy I feel by your side.
I can imagine
no other place to be.
To bend to your will
is like an arabesque
in ballet.
I bow to you
and whisper my praise.

Eternally yours, Andrea