A request of my spiritual director
This afternoon, my spiritual director asked me to write about the times in my life, when I felt a strong presence of God. “And,” he said, “take note of how God was gazing on you with love in those moments.” I didn’t have to think long and hard about it. There have been many times, when God has showered me with the gift of his presence. Much to my discredit, for I am a lot like Peter, after the catch of a large school of fish, I say, “Depart from me, oh Lord, for I am a sinful (woman).”
Here are some memories I have:
- On the day of my First Communion, I wore a long white dress and a veil. I knew I was about to receive the Lord’s body, blood, soul and divinity. And, I was so happy to have arrived at the alter, along with my classmates. In those days, a railing surrounded the foot of the sanctuary, where we all knelt and waited for the priest to come and place the Body of Christ on our tongues. As I lifted my head and opened my mouth to receive the Lord, I was certain He was coming into my heart and He would be with me until the end of time. I felt the touch of the Eucharist on my tongue. And, immediately a warm glow filled the whole inside of my mouth with God’s loving presence. I remember having that feeing for a long time afterwards. I know I spoke to Him. I wish I could remember what we talked about, but alas, my memory escapes me. Recently, my pastor shared a story about how while he was administering first communion to a little girl, the look in her eyes nearly made him cry, as he recalled his own memory of seeing it. I was awestruck at the image he shared with me. When I processed his story, I too saw and felt the same image of the little girl. Of course I was not there at the time, but I imagined it with my own inner eyes. I felt as close to God then, as I did many, many years ago, during my own First Communion.
- Sometime after my own First Communion, and for many months following, I remember being in church, alone with God (it seems this theme has followed me throughout my life). Often, it was after confession, or Mass, when all the other children and nuns left the church. I will always remember the feeling of sheer joy, whenever this happened. I don’t know why I felt that way, and I don’t understand why I still enjoy it. I just know that I do. I don’t believe I ever “really” prayed. I remember just being there, alone with Him and watching Him. Maybe it was a form of contemplative prayer, though I don’t believe I had a name for it back then. I’ll always remember just staring at the crucifix for long periods of time. And, somehow, I could see Him, in my mind’s eye, squirming on the cross. I was kneeling, of course. And, I imagined being on the hill at Golgatha, watching Him as He was dying. I believed He was catapulting me back to the time of the crucifixion, and I was one of His followers. One time, I remember trying to move closer. I wanted to be right up front and center. I was a long way off, maybe a mile away. But, try as I might, the crowd was too big and congested and I couldn’t get any nearer to my Lord.
- As I grew older, these memories and consolations slipped away from me, and I grew lukewarm in my seeking God’s presence. I can remember a nun who had befriended me in grammar school and wanted me to pray the Hail Mary three times a day, for the rest of my life. I thought it impossible and disregarded her request for forty years. Then, one day, I had an inspiration out of nowhere (well, maybe not nowhere, but that’s how it seemed). It was in 2017. I had lived most of my life in the ozone. At the time, I was really into photography and got a notion to take a self-directed pilgrimage to all the Cathedrals up and down the East Coast. I never got to all of them, of course. But, my pilgrimage led to a second conversion. I happened to visit a chapel in Pittsburgh, called St. Anthony’s Chapel, where they have the second most number of relics in the world, second only to the Vatican. See the first of those blog entries, with pictures, here: https://smarieack.livejournal.com/2445.html I remember stepping into that church and it literally took my breath away. I happened to arrive at the three o’clock hour (funny how that works — the hour of Divine Mercy). And, there was a Mass. I know God was smiling down on me that day because this is where my second conversion was beginning to take shape.
- In the beginning of January, in 2019, I was home one night, and getting ready to lead a Divine Mercy retreat at a little country church in Florida. The pastor wanted us to arrive at Divine Mercy Sunday that year, with a church-wide “consecration to the Divine Mercy.” (As a side note, it just so happens that my Baptism anniversary fell on Good Friday, in 2019). I wanted to prepare for the first of five sessions, and I picked up the Bible. I think I googled the word “consecration,” and John: 17 showed up, but I really can’t be sure that’s how I arrived at this particular passage. I read John:17, in the Gospel of John. This is the “priestly prayer of Jesus.” It was as if I was looking at this Chapter in the Bible with a whole new set of eyes. I know God was shining His laser lights right down upon this book for me that night. When I got to the part where it says, “…consecrate them in the truth,” I literally stopped dead in my tracks and put the book down. I seriously couldn’t believe what I had just read. I was stunned, and awed at the mercy and love of Christ that night. I know he was gazing at me with love.
- About this time last year, in June, 2019, I visited a church out-of-county, where they have Adoration five days a week. I had just heard a priest telling us (on the Internet) to reverence the Blessed Sacrament, to spend time with Him, to even go so far as to touch the tabernacle/monstrance. I was taken, so taken with his words, and took them to heart. And, I was so taken with the Blessed Sacrament during that visit, that, in spite of someone else being present in the chapel with me, I boldly arose from my kneeler and walked right up to the monstrance and placed my open palm on the glass where the Eucharist presides. Suddenly, my hand received the Spirit of Christ and began to glow with a strong feeling of warmth and spiritual warfare. I was shocked and surprised and so full of love and gratitude for the Lord’s grace being bestowed upon me that I was literally stunned into a frozen suspension of space and time. When I finally removed my hand and went back to my kneeler, the tingling didn’t stop. It never stopped. I can remember driving home, an hour later, still with he “touch of the Master’s hand” on my own. If I think hard about that hour, I can still feel the tingling on my hand. I didn’t realize it then, but today I know the good Lord was gazing on me with the tenderest of love in His very own eyes.
I could go on, but it’s already late and I must try and get some sleep. If you’re reading this, you know I am awestruck by the many blessings we receive from God on a continual basis. We only have to be open to “seeing” them. It never ceases to amaze me how blessed I am and how important that I keep this forever in my heart. God Bless You. Love God and He will give you peace!