I check my blog stats every couple days, and I wonder why some posts have been chosen for reading. Oh, well… thanks to all of you who’ve been visiting – and especially those reading “Prelude and Fugue in Faith.” That thing is some 14+ pages, single-spaced, quite a daunting read under ordinary circumstances, and made even more difficult because of its theological content. Especially my old school friends who aren’t Catholic – thank you, with all my heart, for reading.
So. It’s Sunday. I went to Mass this morning in a rotten frame of mind. Have been, in fact, these past two weeks. I didn’t go to Communion because I felt I wasn’t disposed, but instead made a spiritual communion by playing/singing Charpentier’s “Panis Angelicus” (found clips of the Te Deum on Youtube, but not this one) –
After our Mass, I went over to the Health Center to check out the organ there. I’m playing for a Memorial Service, Wednesday. Mass there was still in process, so I slipped into a back row of chairs as Father was finishing the “Our Father.” This is the Health Center chapel at the nursing home, and quite a few people were there in wheelchairs, very feeble and weak. I hadn’t realized this chapel even existed and had never thought of the more infirm people at the center. It was deeply touching. One woman was almost recumbent in her wheelchair; she was talking and singing to herself. For some reason, it wasn’t disruptive, didn’t diminish the very reverent atmosphere of the Mass.
When I got home, I felt completely renewed. My anger has dissipated. The issue about which I was so indignant is not the other person’s injustice toward me, it’s that it’s time for me to do other work. Yes, there were injustices, and God will deal appropriately and justly with that individual; but the fact is that I’m so dense that I wouldn’t have moved on had that deteriorating work environment not “herded” me out.
It’s a new beginning. As every Sunday celebrates the Resurrection of the Lord, I’ve been given something of a resurrection, today, myself. Now to go and prepare for the week to come. Learning to live deliberately is not easy, but it’s leahtly and necessary. I thank God for the opportunity to start anew – and that I’m young enough to have much to look forward to (my mother was “old” at 40, so it’s glorious, to me, to feel so young and eager, at age 52).
God bless you all this coming week.