PHOTO:Mary van Balen – Collegeville Institute early morning Noon prayer did it. Three funerals in the Abbey Church that day, so I successfully navigated the maze beneath it and found the small chapel where prayers would be said. Two psalms spoke:
“Have mercy on me, O God, in your faithful love, in your great tenderness wipe away my offences; wash me clean from my guilt, purify me from my sin. For I am well aware of my offences, my sin is constantly in mind.” Ps 51, 1-3.
Well, I hadn’t been well aware of anything until I prayed that line. Perhaps it was hearing the words in communal voice, but I knew what I had done: I had forgotten what I had been given, and not been thankful.
Lately, I have been more aware of what I haven’t been given: a job that feeds my spirit and makes better use of my gifts; a job that pays the bills; a home for my book revised, revised, and revised again; vision for my future…
As I prayed, I was suddenly embarrassed. How could I focus so much on what seems missing and overlook the gifts…
-The opportunity to come to the Institute, attend the writing workshop and pray at the Abbey. Reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.
-A fulltime job.
-Health. Home.
-Close family.
-Supportive friends.
The list could go on, but the point was made. I had sinned.
“God, create in me a clean heart, renew within me a resolute spirit, do not thrust me away from your presence, do not take away from me your spirit of holiness. Give me back the joy of your salvation, sustain in me a generous spirit. Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will speak out your praise.” Ps 51,10-12,15
Then came Psalm 62, 5-8:
“Rest in God alone, my soul! He is the source of my hope.He alone is my rock, my safety, my stronghold, so that I stand unwavering. In God is my safety and my glory, the rock of my strength. In God is my refuge;trust in him, you people, at all times. Pour out your hearts to him, God is a refuge for us.”
I remembered Kathy turning as she left my apartment earlier that day.
“Don’t worry. If it is of God, it will happen. And it WILL happen.” She smiled and was gone. I watched as she disappeared around the corner and then looked at the lake. After a couple of days of rain, the air was clean and cool. Perfect. God doesn’t mind my complaints and fretting, holding on to them is the problem.
Noon prayer is short. I looked at the monks. The voice of the man beside me wiggled into my consciousness as we recited the final words in slow cadence. He had just lost his wife. He was here for help and encouragement. Weren’t we all? And wasn’t it here?
I left with a monk, a dear friend. We had lunch. He has too many poems. We laugh. And I give thanks.
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