Tag: God

Journaling back to my soul…

During a recent Carmelite meeting with my temporary formation teacher, Gene, we discussed — what he called — the levels of the journey someone must take to reach Divine Union. He mentioned what I consider one of the most important levels in the long climb to the top. It consists of looking at ourselves and seeing our brokenness and sin. Here is where I am.

I have been struggling for over a year with lukewarmness and subtle clues from my Creator about my own brokenness. God has been showing me, little by little, what a worthless and sinful being I am. I’ve seen more than I wish, and less than I need.

The hardest part of all is admitting these flaws to myself and to my confessor. It’s just not that easy.

It isn’t in the light, but in the darkness, where I find my true self.

On August 10, 2018, I had a vision while inside a chapel. In order to get the true meaning of this vision, I had to first work out my salvation for three and a half years. Here is why:

Last night I went to my usual Saturday evening Mass. I was awaiting confession in the Adoration Chapel when my confessor showed up. I had been struggling with blood pressure spikes as of late and, when I saw him, it immediately shot way up. I felt fear!

As Catholics, we are taught to make an examination of conscience before confession, but always, when I go to confession, the Lord brings out thoughts, words and deeds I had not planned to discuss. In the depths of my soul, I must confront these things and see my sinful side. Confession is a chance meeting to unveil our sins and imperfections, sometimes for the first time. When it happens, it surprises or shocks me. It is always painful.

This was one of those nights when I uncovered a sin I did not expect to see.

Strange as it seems, I had been ruminating on the vision (above) for a couple of days, and with each passing thought, my memory became clearer and clearer. While dwelling on this memory, I saw how I had just received the Eucharist — the body of Christ — during Mass. I knelt in my pew with head bowed and eyes closed, thanking God for the gifts he had given me. Suddenly, behind closed eyes, I saw a huge hole open up in the ceiling and a beautiful pale yellow light shone onto a man sitting in a pew a few rows in front of me. He was hunched over in deep soulful prayer. I had never seen him before. In fact, I had not even noticed him even though there were less than a dozen people present. He was a stranger to me, but it wasn’t the man who I began to pay attention to. It was the light. And the light disappeared as soon as I acknowledged it.* When I opened my eyes and looked at him, I could only see his back. He was hunkered down low. I didn’t see the pain in his body that day, but I know it now.

Nevertheless, I was consumed with trying to find the light, but when I closed my eyes again, it never materialized. I had not focused on the man because I didn’t want to. I didn’t realize it was all about him. Later, I even told my former pastor that perhaps this vision wasn’t meant for me but, he assured me it was. When I asked him if he knew the man, he said he didn’t notice him.

After Mass, the man rose from his seat and walked swiftly out the door.

Just yesterday, I remembered looking up at him as he passed but quickly looked away because his face was contorted and it frightened me. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or anger; it may have been both. I remember, now, what he looked like. I remember his clothes, light-colored, a beige shirt and camel-colored pants, a little dirty and wrinkled, as if he had slept in them. I wondered if I should go after him and talk to him and tell him what I saw but, I was too consumed with my own self-centered desires. And, these selfish desires remained unfulfilled, so I allowed another thought to pass through my consciousness. On this second thought, I decided to go chase after him. However, when I opened the door, he was gone. I saw a small, red, beat-up pickup truck zoom out of its parking space and high-tail it out of the lot. I assumed it was the man. I remembered feeling surprised at how suddenly he left. It had been only a few minutes. I closed the door and went back to my pew, thinking I had tried to do my duty.

The whole scenario was unsettling.
  1. I had missed an opportunity to comfort someone.
  2. I never realized how divine that opportunity was until my confession.

Although I never saw the man again, I questioned the vision many times over the years. I’ve written about it, but not about the man. He evaded my memory. I always left out that part. I’m certain I repressed seeing him because I never remembered him until the day before my confession. I understand now why I wrote about the vision in a previous blog, but not the man. I mentioned this vision to the priest. I had told him about it a few years ago, shortly after he became my spiritual director. I don’t think I ever mentioned it to him again — that is, until Saturday night.

During my confession, I reminded the priest about the vision and told him about the man and what had happened, I asked him if it was a sin, fully expecting him to say no. But, he didn’t. He nodded his head yes. I could see the hurt in his eyes. He was well aware that it is a sin not to help someone in pain, not to show the love of God. I, however, was shocked. How could this be a sin if I didn’t even understand the meaning of it? It doesn’t matter. My confessor was right. And, I couldn’t sleep last night because of it.

We are all called to comfort those in pain, and to love each other. That is God’s greatest desire. That is what Christianity is all about. I could have helped that man that day — my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to know I had helped someone through a clear prompting from the Holy Spirit, with a specific person — and I had failed.

I was inspired to write this journal entry as a condition of my salvation.

Soul searching is hard. “Life is difficult,” as F. Scott Peck says, in The Road Less Traveled.

I had lunch with my friend, Louise, on Friday and we discussed life. She likes to see life as being about adaptation. She put out her hand in front of her face and waved it in a swaying-like motion. “You have to learn to sway,” she said. Swaying is hard. Life is hard. Learning hard lessons takes time and can take the wind out of our sails. Please God, forgive me for my sins? Amen…

*Here is the original blog post if you’re so inclined: https://smarieack.livejournal.com/4926.html

Personal Letter to Jesus

My confessor told me to write to you, Teacher, to make it personal and pleasing to Your eyes. I knew not what to say. He gave me some suggestions, such as what happened to my car recently. I’ll start there.

The Highway Maneuver:

On Monday, I was headed to Ocala, after pulling out of a gas station in Gainesville. I couldn’t have been on the road more than 20 minutes, when just like that, my engine froze. I was in the fast lane, cruising about 70 mph. But, the odometer gradually dropped at a steady pace. I put my foot to the pedal, but nothing happened. While looking in the rear view mirror, I realized I’d better get off the road. Thank you, Father, for making this an easy transition.

This is where I was stuck, on I-75, for about two hours on Monday. Pretty sky, but not really a great place to land.

Moving from one lane to the next wasn’t hard — It was easy and smooth. I saw some guardrails up ahead and got a little concerned. Should I jam on my breaks and pull over now, or just pull off next to the guardrails. I opted for the guardrails, hoping that maybe I could clear them. Lo and behold, You made it so. Thank you, Master. Your works are merciful and sweet to my existence.

The stop, call, worry and reward:

Once safely on the side of the road, I called my friend to let her know I probably wouldn’t be able to make it, as I my car just died. She was worried, and I had to assure her I was safe and all would be well. After our 15-minute conversation, we hung up, and I called AAA Roadside assistance. That was an ordeal because of Covid, among other things, such as my recently lapsed policy, and the dispatcher not being able to locate my exact coordinates. Thank you, Teacher, for giving me the wherewithal to use my GPS to help him find me. Your wisdom is unsurpassable and sacred, and I praise You with all my heart.

The Wait:

If you, the reader, have ever had to use Roadside Assistance, you know how long the wait is. I don’t think I’ve ever waited less than an hour. After speaking with Frank and getting the ticket in motion, it was all just a matter of time. The sky was crystal clear, but the inside of my car was hot. So, I got out. After walking to the other side of the car with my rapidly depleting phone battery, I quickly took a picture of where I was and posted it on Facebook.

It was a beautiful day. There was not a cloud in the sky. There’s an old sportsman’s saying that goes like this: The bluebirds like to come out an play when there are no clouds in the sky. And, so they call it a bluebird day. Thank you, Jesus for making my day so glorious.

The ride/not ride:

Since Covid changed everything, AAA no longer allows members to ride in the truck anymore. But, the driver was nice enough to drop me off at the nearest truck-stop. I saw some shady characters hanging around and decided not to wait in the front. I walked to the shaded side of the building, where a ramp makes its way from the door to the side. No sooner had I parked myself up against the building and pulled out my phone, when I saw a shadow walking down the ramp.

It startled me, but there he was — Lindburgh, 88 — a big brawny man wearing a stark white t-shirt — came into view. He looked at me and instinctively knew, I guess. He asked why I was there. I pointed to the AAA truck pulling out of the parking lot and said, “There goes my car.” He offered me a ride to Gainesville in his sleek Dodge Charger, and I accepted. Thank you, Rabbi, for putting the right person in my path and the exact right moment. Your gifts do not go unnoticed. I praise you, O Lord, and I thank you.

The end result:

The next morning, I talked to my serviceman, Dave, who informed me that my engine froze. “Ugh,” I thought. “I guess I need a new car.” Not so fast though, the Lord whispered. Dave followed up by saying, “The good news is, it’s covered under warranty.” The KIA dealership later informed me that some models had trouble with their engines, so they just decided to give a lifetime warranty. Yeshua, thank you! You made my day. Praise God! “Take Lord, receive all my liberties, my memory, my understanding and my will. Your love and your grace are enough for me.” (Saint Ignatius Loyola)

Your loving servant.

Moi

The Long White Sword…

A Quote by Yves Raguin

“While searching for God, we cannot find Him unless He wills it. We can understand ourselves by an intuition, but, if God refuses to reveal Himself, we will not find in this intuition any vista opening to the mystery of God. But by allowing Himself to be sought, God has already opened up a path to those who seek Him. It is sufficient for the soul to recognize humbly that it cannot find God without His Light.”

When I began writing this blog, in 2014, I never dreamed I would have gone so deep into spirituality as to make a vow to write about my interior life. But, here I am, doing just that. And, so, I am awake at 1 a.m., because of a call, so-to-speak, to pen a consolation I received 2 nights ago.

I didn’t expect it and don’t know why I was given the great gift of receiving it. But, it happened. And, so I must write it down for future authority. (not sure where that word came from, but <shrug>). In fact, it didn’t even occur to me to write it into my blog until just now.

I shut off the light and closed my eyes. I knew I had to be bold in my prayer that night. For some reason, I was able to achieve deep contemplation. In my prayer, I swam down through the depths of my soul and lingered there. I spoke an indescribable plea to God that went something like this. “Lord, if you find it in your heart to make yourself known to me, even though I know I am not worthy, please let me know you are here.” I cannot write the words verbatim because I don’t really know (or can’t remember) what all I said. I only know it was one of those rare moments, when you know you’re praying the good-fight prayer; the closest thing you can get to true honesty.

Then, I saw, in a flash of white light, a white sword come down upon my head, in the midst of all those words. It only lasted for a millisecond, but in my closed-eye vision, I felt a kind of a wound in my heart, the kind that they sometimes talk about in books. It wasn’t painful to me. It was almost a pang of longing love. And, I began to cry.

For now, that’s all I got. Peace!

Sometimes…

You just have to get off the rollercoaster ride, and ride it out with God instead. He is the only one who I KNOW loves me. It doesn’t matter what other people say, or “think” about me. God intuitively assists me in every way. Once, my own self gets off the spinning wheel, it becomes apparent that nothing else will work. That’s all for now. God Bless!

Solemnity of the Holy Trinity

Sunday, June 16, 2019, was Father’s Day, and I tip my hat to Dad, wherever you are in the universe. But, more important than Father’s Day, was the fact that this was the celebration of the Holy Trinity. And, I wanted to hear and learn more about it. So, I drove more than an hour to get to the Latin Mass, in Ocala, Florida, to witness it for the first time in 55 years.

This was my view of the first Catholic Latin Mass that I have witnessed since I was a child, maybe 10 or ll years old. The priest gave his sermon from “the pulpit,” which can be seen on the left side of the photo (above).

Since this Mass was celebrated in Latin, and the priest’s back was mostly turned to us, I couldn’t understand what he was praying. However, when he came to the pulpit he spoke to us. And, I could hear him. His sermon was simple. It was powerful, and grace-filled. I could see and hear the power of the Holy Spirit in his words. In fact, I was so enamored by his thoughts and speech that I forgot to turn on my recorder until he was halfway through.

Here is basically what he said at the beginning…

The priest began his sermon with an eloquent explanation of the five months, on the liturgical calendar, that led up to and included the feast of the Holy Trinity. He talked about the seasons of Lent and Easter, and how they officially ended on Pentecost Sunday. And, he explained how these past five months have been devoted to the time of our fasting and almsgiving (Lent) in preparation for the resurrection of Christ on Easter Sunday; the days after Easter to prepare for the Ascension; and the week after that, which was in preparation for, and culminated on Pentecost Sunday.  Then, he explained how the Octave of the Pentecost, which ended on the Solemnity of The Holy Trinity, was in preparation for this feast day. And, it was all simplified for me, in one easy lesson.

The priest went onto speak about how the Feast of the Holy Trinity is in some way tied to every feast day of the year. He compared the feast to the sign of the cross, and to prayer, and to the indwelling of the three persons in God. “If we condensed the one feast day into one sign,” he said, “it would be the sign of the cross.” 

About this time in the sermon, I managed to grab my phone and begin the recording, which by the way, lasted for another 18 minutes. Interestingly, the priest managed to slip in a bit about St. Bernadette, who happens to be my patron saint. She was illiterate and didn’t even know how to make the sign of the cross, so the Blessed Mother taught her how, during the first visitation. The priest reminded me that St. Bernadette once said, “It’s important to make it well.” 

Here’s a recording. I promise you’ll feel blessed.

This 18-minute audio will inspire you to live more fruitfully…