PHOTO: Mary van Balen
I take heart remembering that Blessed Pope John XXIII, in his autobiography, “Journal of a Soul”, called himself a beginner when it came to prayer, always a beginner. Last night I went to bed in an agitated state, thinking about full time jobs and my lack of having one, the mess waiting to be neatly repacked in boxes, and final papers for the dissolution. I woke in pretty much the same state, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when quiet prayer was anything but quiet.
I confess to keeping the Deity patiently waiting as I jumped in and out (mostly out) of recollected stillness in the Divine Presence. One moment my mind was emptying all itself of self as Sir Thomas Browne wrote in his insightful poem; in the next it was working out a cover letter for a position at a local university. This happened again and again.
My life, my soul, seemed to be spread out in disorder that rivaled that of my belongings taunting me from behind the closed bedroom door. What hope for me? John XXIII might have thought of himself as a beginner, but he DID become pope after all. I can’t even find a job.
Banishing those destructive thoughts, I tried again and again to return to stillness. For forty minutes I tried.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” was the best prayer I could muster. “I hope your feminine side is ready to draw me close. I could use a warm comforting hug,” I continued. “And for the Father in you, well, I could use some rock-solid confidence and protection from myself. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
So it went. Now I am on to laundry, packing boxes, and delivering papers to my attorney. One encouraging thought that the good pope and I share: When I return tomorrow, the Holy One will be there as always, patiently waiting with Love and a smile.
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