I went outside. The sun did seem to make things better. I do not know if I am still slightly ill, or if those friendly byproducts just simply do not clear from the body of a person like myself, but I have a light cough. The worst of the illness was two weeks ago. I feel fine, it's just annoying. And I worry that something worse may occur. I wonder how much Dayquil or whatnot you can take before it's a concern. Should I see a doctor? What will he or she do that I haven't tried?
So there was that in prayer. And the acquaintance who has many hurdles in his attempt to study in America. And the heart-wound that won't seem to heal. I feel like the Lord is the only one who is for me on that one. But I thanked Him for the day, for the sun and for grace. I just walked along and prayed. I talked with the saints and the Blessed Mother, because I wanted to. And we do that. I appreciate liturgical prayers of many kinds; the worst error is to spurn them out of some sense of passion. And yet, to know God and our holy friends are right there is so good. You can say whatever you wish, so long as it is good.
And I suppose I need to give Him my moments in a steady way, to seek Him in all things, even through difficulty. But I did relish the perfection of the moment; the most natural and correct thing was to pray. I am learning: Pray even when you do not wish to. And yet, don't fail to do it when you do wish to! He had told us to go in our rooms and close the door, but He did not say what the room was, nor that you needed a door. I think Jesus means to say that we should be with the Father, for his sake and our own, and not to please others. I tell you because we are friends, and perhaps you have struggled to pray like I do.
It was a good day. And yet I marvel how easily joy and sorrow mingle. I wonder if I am crazy, because I have joy, and yet trouble is never far. I think of myself as very optimistic, but it is also true that I can imagine unceasing tears, and that does not seem wrong. You know? And I cannot do theology and let a phrase pass without a definition: "fallen world" and "fallen nature." I am Catholic, after all. Forgive me if truth compels an insistence upon precision. Because we cry out for the good, though it is true we cannot reach it alone. Even if we should say that we are double-minded, there is a difference between our finitude, and our wickedness, between nature and grace. I digress.
There is a strong chance that I love you in some way, if you are reading this. You might be very close or very far. In any case, I miss you sometimes. I'm glad you are you. I'm glad we can share something good in this life, so beautiful and so hard.
So there was that in prayer. And the acquaintance who has many hurdles in his attempt to study in America. And the heart-wound that won't seem to heal. I feel like the Lord is the only one who is for me on that one. But I thanked Him for the day, for the sun and for grace. I just walked along and prayed. I talked with the saints and the Blessed Mother, because I wanted to. And we do that. I appreciate liturgical prayers of many kinds; the worst error is to spurn them out of some sense of passion. And yet, to know God and our holy friends are right there is so good. You can say whatever you wish, so long as it is good.
And I suppose I need to give Him my moments in a steady way, to seek Him in all things, even through difficulty. But I did relish the perfection of the moment; the most natural and correct thing was to pray. I am learning: Pray even when you do not wish to. And yet, don't fail to do it when you do wish to! He had told us to go in our rooms and close the door, but He did not say what the room was, nor that you needed a door. I think Jesus means to say that we should be with the Father, for his sake and our own, and not to please others. I tell you because we are friends, and perhaps you have struggled to pray like I do.
It was a good day. And yet I marvel how easily joy and sorrow mingle. I wonder if I am crazy, because I have joy, and yet trouble is never far. I think of myself as very optimistic, but it is also true that I can imagine unceasing tears, and that does not seem wrong. You know? And I cannot do theology and let a phrase pass without a definition: "fallen world" and "fallen nature." I am Catholic, after all. Forgive me if truth compels an insistence upon precision. Because we cry out for the good, though it is true we cannot reach it alone. Even if we should say that we are double-minded, there is a difference between our finitude, and our wickedness, between nature and grace. I digress.
There is a strong chance that I love you in some way, if you are reading this. You might be very close or very far. In any case, I miss you sometimes. I'm glad you are you. I'm glad we can share something good in this life, so beautiful and so hard.
Comments