28 November 2012

Rambling (Part I)

They are so mysterious. Christ, Mary, all the Saints. When I pause my day and realize this, I feel desolate, like a child jumping, straining to reach swaying branches. The leaves which fall are facets of knowledge, graces I can't begin to understand. How lowly am I to dream of knowing. Isn't that where our problems began: wanting forbidden knowledge?

But their goodness--Christ's, Mary's, that of my to-be-determined Confirmation Saint--how could knowledge of them be forbidden? But then, who am I to gain insight? I have pulled apart curtains in my walk toward Catholicism, ruffled wisps of fabric until I meet a wall, like confused children in a wardrobe full of coats, like Alice staring at a locked door.

But haven't I been the one to set up a wall? It isn't that I don't want to learn and grow.  I still let myself get in the way. The question of my persistence is answered by my response: do I stare listlessly at the wall or do I pound on it until it's crumbled and I'm jumping now over rubble into an embrace almost too warm to bear?

The word of God is more piercing than any two edged sword; it is all discerning. God's love, God Himself, must be white hot and glorious, beyond measure or compare. His favor and His love and His mercy: how could I manage to maintain those? I think that is what I am most afraid of. I am afraid of misusing the gifts God has given and may give me. I am afraid my inadequacy will not convert someone, but push them away. I am afraid my unimportant, human issues will weigh more on my mind than the important, eternal thoughts I should have. I am afraid Father (God bless him) will nod off during my first Confession because I will be kneeling there for hours.

I have gotten the idea into my head recently that I have an alarming amount of faith. This statement is not one of vanity, but one that seems quite simple to me. Perhaps it is because I frequently think of faith as a combination of trust and belief. I trust God with all my heart: wherever he leads I want to follow and be his good daughter. I believe him to be majestic, all-powerful, the Creator, worthy of honor and praise... Faith is fact to me. I could never turn from what I've found.

Maybe this makes me naive in others' eyes (which, frankly, doesn't matter to me). Maybe it makes me lazy in other people's eyes. The latter offends the purposeful intellectual in me. I do not sit blindly, accepting each item which crosses my path. I think I have the faith I do because, even in as few as twenty years of living, I have been guided by hope in the Lord to save me--not merely spiritually (as important as that is), but also as immediate as physically and mentally. I have begged God's help in my darkest hours for the lowliest of the low. I have prayed Mary's intercession, whispering Rosaries to return to clarity. Nowhere else can I turn to be comforted so. Nowhere else do I find such beauty.

Where do I go from here?

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