Monday, March 09, 2009
It began last night as I went to bed, with tears of grief for Dooley flowing from a place deep within me that in turn merged with older tears and mummified memories. I sought out Mary, my new best friend. As I tried to quiet my tears I turned to her, and she offered her lap for my weary head. I understood in an instant why she has such broad appeal as a source of comfort. She understands. She has faced hope, despair, anticipation, joy, sorrow, disappointment, loss and surprise. She knows the cost and promise of saying yes. She knows. She is the Eternal Mother.
Dreams poked at uncomfortable realities and shook loose enough layers of debris that my consciousness was cluttered with them when I woke. I lingered in the safe cocoon of bedding long enough to identify a single culprit of disquiet and turned it over and over, as though the action of doing so would polish the sting from its presence. Oddly enough this was the answer to a prayer. I recognized the signs of God's activity and asked what he was up to. He usually doesn't answer my questions directly, but this time it was a simple, clear message: he was assuring me of his love.
The prayer being answered is for transformation. I thought I had been healing from the collective wounds inflicted by the Church over the years, but in fact the scar tissue has built up like layers around my soul. They protected and numbed me, and clogged the arteries of my spirituality. I was shriveling up. Time for preemptive CPR.
It occured to me that the years' accummulated layers needed to be scraped off to free and breathe life back into what is buried within. And it struck me. How ironic that a week spent applying layers to what began as a blank slate should lead to the revelation that another set of layers holds the key to the next step in this journey. And there is more. So much more that awaits me.
As I keep company with Mary today and yield to the work of transformation I give thanks for the opportunities that break through barriers and point us to paths previously obscured by all manner of good and well-deliberated intentions. The grace of this day is that there is One wiser than I who knew it was time for me to be here.