God's exquisite kindness

God has made me experience His exquisite kindness in two very special ways today.
While I was praying by myself in the chapel, I had the inspiration to go to the last pew. Normally I don't sit there because when people start to come, they distract me. Anyway, I heeded the inspiration and, therefore, had a long and good look at the big crucifix beside the altar. I had just read a book where somebody shared her experience of how in her difficult life, she has come to realize that "in the cross, somebody can truly understand" her. Yes, as I looked, as I gazed at that cross, I knew deep in my heart that someone understands the pain in my heart and the struggle to keep hoping. He, Jesus, knew the pain of betrayal, of rejection, of insuccess, of lack of comprehension. Yes, He understands. Somehow it gives me consolation as I go through this experience. In my solitude, someone keeps me company. His resurrection is the foundation of my hope that life triumphs.
The other experience happened also unexpectedly. I was feeling tired so I decided to take a walk in the garden, just to breathe a little fresh air, to see the flowers, the trees and the grass, to hear the birds and the young people playing in the nearby football field. Then I came across an elderly sister who has always touched me by her kindness and intuition. She was praying her rosary and she told me, "I am remembering you. Enlarge your heart, don't let suffering overcome you. Let go and you will learn to swim". Then we continued to chat. She shared with me some of her experiences and realizations. It wasn't a very long conversation, but it was life-giving.
Thank God for these special gifts today.

He has put timelessness into our hearts

"God has made everything appropriate to its time, and has put the timeless into their hearts, without men's ever discovering, from beginning to end, the work which God has done." (Ecclesiastes 3:11)
This text is part of a famous quote from Scriptures that starts with "There is an appointed time for everything". It is only today that I have been struck by this last part. God has an over-all plan, and that is a plan of joy and fullness of life. But this plan is an ongoing work, and we are involved in its construction. The problem is, we often question the whys of certain events and blame everything on God when things seem crazy and absurd.
If God has a plan, where is our freedom? Are we mere puppets in the hands of a great puppeteer? On the other hand, if we are responsible, then what use is it to pray and to ask God for help?
My own personal theory is this: God's plan is a plan of joy, of success, of fullness of life. We all have our part and what we do, what we say, even what we think, have their consequences in the lives of others and in God's plan of joy. But God continues to be present, motivating and inspiring us, so that despite our follies we may decide to cooperate in His plan. Mistakes and follies also have a place in this plan because they bring out the best in people like strength, resilience, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, sacrifice, etc.
Since we are a part of this puzzle, we are "in" and we cannot see the greater picture. What we see pertains only to our lives, or to the lives of those closest to us; and this may overwhelm us or make us despair. But if we just step back for a while and try to see the bigger picture, or just review a past experience, we will be amazed to see how even the most tragic thing can contribute to God's plan of joy.
Lastly, we will never find full joy in this life. God has put "timelessness" into our hearts. There will always be an angst, a sense of incompleteness, a craving for something more. Our hearts are too noble to be content with the created world, yet it is still too small in this life to be the dwelling place of a God who is so Great.

Second half

I feel that I have entered the second half of my life.
This morning as I was making my meditation, I thanked God for the care-free, spontaneous and innocent first-half, and I asked Him to be present as I grapple with the second half, armed only with faith because I have experienced at various times of my life His faithful love.

Community

I feel so very sad this afternoon. The weather is quite cool. It feels autumn, and I feel an ache in my whole being.
A sister in my community is leaving for her new community.
Since these days we are seeing so many changes in the composition of our community, our superior is motivating us about the beauty of our Salesian life, how, wherever we go, we find houses, homes, sisters. But it is not easy. Entering the door of a new house does not automatically mean entering the hearts of the people there. In much the same way, leaving a house doesn't make you automatically forget or "leave" the people, despite the tensions and frictions that may have been.
I actually wonder how true and sincere people are when they say, "Oh, when I left that community, I've cut all ties". Is it possible?
I cannot truthfully say that for myself, despite the experiences of pain, friction, misunderstanding, rejection, and yes, even competition.
And so I'll cry, and I'll let the ache in my heart penetrate my being, because I care. And that is what community is all about, isn't it?

The dream of fewness

The dream of fewness comes from our wildest longings and is an ache for a great love.
To dream the dream of fewness is to know, right within the restless stirrings of one's own heart, that one is, as both Scripture and philosophy affirm, fired into life with a madness that comes from the gods and which demands that one attain a great love.
It is only when we despair of attaining that great love that we grow embarrassed with romance, with "falling in love," with the dream of fewness and attempt to tame our longings by subduing them with phrases like naive, adolescent, counterproductive of community, sickly privatized, and obsessional neurosis.
The dream of fewness. Taste and remember. Think of how much happier and mellower and centered beyond the immediate world would be if everyone had tasted and could remember.

(Ronald Rolheiser)

Experiences may make me come to the conclusion that "kindred spirits" or "best friends" is adolescent stuff. There is, indeed, a question within my heart whether this is so. Is it possible that there is one or some people with whom your life will always be tied for life, for better or for worse?
I refuse to give up this longing, though others may frown on it. I was so happy when I came across this reflection from Fr. Ronald Rolheiser. Maybe a lot of people have given up on this in their heart. They may even be unaware that in their heart of hearts, there is this yearning. Their experiences may have taught them to be hard, to be practical, not to believe in adolescent stuff, because in the world you need grit and might and a good dose of indifference in order to survive.
But, I repeat, I refuse to give up this idea and ideal. I believe that God is love. He loves me. He knows that I am a person and I need to feel, to experience love. God Himself said in Genesis that "it is not good for man to be alone".
Experiences may have wounded me, but I refuse to fall into cynicism. Somewhere out there, there are people whose lives will always be tied with mine, forever, for better or for worse.

Leaving my boat, burning my bridges

Funny how certain experiences of ours call to mind a particular passage from Scripture; and how certain passages from Scripture make us look at a particular experience from a different perspective.
Today's Gospel talks about the call of Simon the Fisherman. Towards the end of the passage it says: When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him. (Luke 5:11)
Following Jesus is the source of true joy and fullness of life, but it has its price to pay. In my experience, it is not a choice between good and bad. Rarely do I have this choice. Rather, it was always a choice to leave behind a certain Something, that has given me joy, security and a certain fulfillment.
These past months have been the longest and most difficult experience of leaving my boat.
I guess the image of burning my bridges has more impact to me. I have always loved bridges. In fact, it is one of my symbols. Bridges symbolize connection. I have always been a relational person. I could renounce my own comforts or go way out of my way in order to give joy to somebody. Perhaps, sometimes I exaggerate. But that is what I am.
The Gospel today is like an inspiration from God. I have to burn my bridges in order to be truly for Him and for His Kingdom. It is not easy. I struggle a lot, because, as I said earlier, it's not as if it's a choice between good and bad.
The price of following Jesus is solitude. I am still in the process of letting go and of accepting this reality. Many say that solitude is the source of fecundity. Well I am not yet there, but I hope that I am on the road.