because God will always find a way to reach me

"What she taught me is… 

You don't put yourself into what you write... 

you find yourself there."

~ the character of Alan Bennett, 

speaking about the lady of many names, 

in the movie, The Lady in the Van 

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It seems crazy to me that it’s been such a long time since I’ve written a blog post.

It’s an odd little circle. The more things pop up in my life, the more I want – and need – to write. But the hardest it also becomes to make it happen.

Writing helps me discover what I think and assists me as I sort through what I’m feeling, as I did a few weeks ago on the day that Fidel Castro died.

But when even been able to write a blog post seems too much, when I am struggling to simply be faithful to my daily prayer, then I have to rely on other avenues to connect the dots within my spirit.  Things like music and deliberately walking slowly and watching the stars at night.

And above all, I put my trust in God to show me His presence in my life as is. He always does, generously, faithfully, often with great humor

Sometimes He’ll speak to me in a movie, as He did with “the Lady in the Van.” Or it could be through the lyrics to a song that I’ve heard but never paid attention to before.

Oftentimes it means that I start having very vivid dreams. And often, they are dreams with recurring themes, such as houses—something I’ve written about before.

As I think about the houses in my dreams it is clear to me that this “sign” or image often surfaces when I’m in some sort of transitional phase, journeying into something new, or perhaps simply facing something unknown.

Don’t know what this means other than it is, still, a new year, offering both anticipation and hope, as well as an invitation to newness. New beginnings. New perspectives. New ideas. New “something-to-be-named.”

Thanks for walking with me… still!

this is a new country, what shall we name it?

I am traveling this week--visiting family in Charlottesville, Virginia. 

But I don't want to leave you empty handed until next week, so... I hope you enjoy this edited version of a previous blog post on one of my favorite subjects: dreams!

Via Dolorosa, Jerusalem, 2012

I have had some crazy, vivid dreams lately. 

More often than not I will only remember one image, one person, or one event in the dream, but I’ve been trying to write down whatever I do remember, especially any strong emotions I remember feeling. 

The other day I woke up with only one line: 

“This is a new country, what shall we name it?”

It made me laugh out loud.

It reminds me of something I wrote a few years ago, as I tried to sort out how I felt about my physical condition and its limitations:

I feel a layer of anger swimming right below the surface of my awareness, like a layer of fat that needs to be discarded from a great soup. I feel betrayed by my body, and I am angry about it, and angry with me. It’s a crazy circle, and I know that it’s not productive, let alone healthy.

When I shared these ponderings with my spiritual director Joanne, a wise and beautiful woman, she just smiled at me and said: 

“Maria, you are learning to take care of yourself, and you’re taking it to other areas of your life! What I hear is calmness, trusting, a certainty that allows you to name the anger. Things are okay. I am so proud of you, your faithfulness to do the healing work. God will show you what’s next.” 

The healing work that I am committed to do involves all of me—my physical being, yes, but also my emotional, mental, and spiritual being. 

I may not, but God sees how good it already is.

It frequently does feel like traveling in a new and undiscovered country, a place where I’ve never been, and where I don't recognize the language. 

But this is a journey of a lifetime and not one that I have to conquer right now. The real challenge is whether I will be true to the journey, and faithful to the work it brings to me today.

[edited version of this post was first published under "the healing journey" on October 11,2012]

temptations

Do not grieve over the temptations you suffer. When the Lord intends to bestow a particular virtue on us, He often permits us first to be tempted by the opposite vice. Therefore, look upon every temptation as an invitation to grow in a particular virtue and a promise by God that you will be successful, if only you stand fast.

~St. Philip Neri  (1515-1595)

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The beginning of all temptation lies in a wavering mind and little trust in God, for as a rudderless ship is driven hither and yon by waves, so a careless and irresolute man is tempted in many ways. Fire tempers iron and temptation steels the just. Often we do not know what we can stand, but temptation shows us what we are. 

Above all, we must be especially alert against the beginnings of temptation, for the enemy is more easily conquered if he is refused admittance to the mind and is met beyond the threshold when he knocks.

~St. Francis De Sales (1567-1622)

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I woke up the other day hearing a song from my dreams--one that I’ve never heard before: 

“come to the Father who loves you and won’t ever leave you.” 

What a beautiful reminder, especially during this season of Lent and it’s proding to shed away my illusions. Like the illusion that *I* can take care of my own personality defects, what a great temptation!

As my good friend Susan Stabile noted in a recent CREO EN DIOS blog post, 

"for those of us attempting to lead spiritual lives, temptation often comes in pleasing disguises. How much easier it would be to avoid temptation if the tempter appeared as a devil with pitchfork trying to persuade us to do some obviously evil act!"

Check out Susan’s entire post, including an image of Titian’s painting of “The Temptation of Christ.” You will be surprised.

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“Therefore, whoever thinks he is standing secure 

should take care not to fall.” 

~1 Corinthians 10: 12                       

All I have to do is dream

I’ve been having dreams lately about houses. In the most recent one, I walked from room to room checking out my new home. There was nothing about it that was familiar, yet I knew it was my own. People I know kept dropping by and “helping” me by setting things up, always outside. My husband built a brick fireplace--next to a shrine site for Mother Mary. A woman from my parish set up pansies up and down the entrance, and a friend brought over chimes that I could hang in the back yard, something I love. 

Houses are a common theme in dreams, and I learned years ago that they represent various aspects of the self. Experts will tell you that every specific room that shows up in your “house” has a special relation to specific facets of your personality. And even the condition of the house may reflect how you feel and think about your life right now. 

As I think about the houses in my dreams, but especially this latest one, it is clear to me that they reflect the reality that I’m in a transitional phase, journeying into something new, something unknown. I’d like to think that my wondering from room to room in my dream may signal my willingness for self exploration. As life details outside me continue to change, I do want to turn inward to listen to what God is showing me there.  

As God’s sense of humor would have it, at daily Mass this week, the visiting priest spoke two days in a row about dreams, especially in relation to Advent. 

Advent, I heard him say, is a time not only of waiting, but also of newness. As we prepare for the beginning of Advent on Sunday, he suggested, why not ask God directly to show me what new thing, idea, possibility He wants to show me. 

One way to open and ready myself to the newness of God, he said, is to deliberately shake things up a little bit. Try adding something different to my regular prayer time, or take half of it in a contemplative walk. Read about a saint that I’m not familiar with. Look for divine beauty in the ordinary moments of my life.

It is in dreams, I heard him say, that there is possibility--and God will make His presence  known there. 

the healing journey

I have had some crazy, vivid dreams lately. Sometimes I will only remember one image, one person, or one event in the dream, but I’ve been trying to write down words in my journal of whatever I do remember. The other day I woke up with only one line, “This is a new country, what shall we name it?”

It made me laugh out loud.

It reminds me of what I wrote some time ago about my physical condition and its limitations:

I feel a layer of anger swimming right below the surface of my awareness, like a layer of fat that needs to be discarded from a great soup. I feel betrayed by my body, and I am angry about it and angry with me. It’s a crazy circle, and I know that it’s not productive, let alone healthy.

When I shared these ponderings with my spiritual director Joanne, a wise and beautiful woman, she just smiled at me and said, “Maria, you are learning to take care of yourself, and you’re taking it to other areas of your life! What I hear is calmness, trusting, a certainty that allows you to name the anger. Things are okay. I am so proud of you, your faithfulness to do the healing work. God will show you what’s next.” 

The healing work that I am committed to do involves all of me—my physical being, yes, but also my emotional and spiritual being. I may not, but God sees how good it already is.

It frequently does feel like traveling in a new and undiscovered country, a place where I’ve never been, where I don’t know anyone, and where I don’t recognize the language. But this is a journey of a lifetime and not one that I have to conquer right now. The real challenge is whether I will be true to the journey, and faithful to the work it brings to me today.

Via Dolorosa, Jerusalem, 2012