Tag: Holy Spirit

When the Spirit Hides

January was a tough month. I had just come off a whole year of spiritual agony. And, I was “ready” for a new trial. So, in the “spirit of piety,” I asked God to give me a new trial. I put a stipulation on it this time. I asked that the trial not be a physical one, only a spiritual one. God heard my prayer and answered me thus:

Although I didn’t contract the Coronavirus, I did find myself temporarily down for a day with the flu. I know this because on Tuesday, February 18, 2020, I went to bed cold. I couldn’t get warm so I put on several quilts to warm up. I finally fell asleep, but I had a hard time breathing. I remember making the decision to go to the doctor the next day. I’m not sure what happened, but when I awoke the fever was gone. Congested though I was, I still could not breath, and my regular doctor was out of the office. So, a temporary nurse practitioner gave me oral steroids. It didn’t help. My cough was out-of-control.

Aside from the cough, I felt fine. That weekend was my Cursillo Weekend. For those of you who don’t know what it is, Cursillo is a drawing closer to Christ, in a way that challenges your piety, spiritual study and apostolic action. I cried throughout the weekend — I became an emotional wreck. One of my Cursillo sisters said it was because God was “drawing you deeper.” I remember thinking, how much deeper can I go?

At the end of the weekend, we all had to “witness” what the weekend meant to us. I shared how emotional I had been. That was on February 23, which happened to be my birthday. Earlier that day, I had lost most of my hearing. One of my Cursillo sisters said it was because I was, “congested.” She could hear it.

When I got home, I was scared for my hearing. So, I made an emergency appointment with my surgeon doctor. On Tuesday, February 25th, I received my first-ever steroid injection into my eardrum. Yes, it hurt. But, that wasn’t the worst part. Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, and I was looking forward to going to Mass. I never got to go though because I had a vertigo attack and was stupefied for many hours, unable to move.

The Stage Has Been Set

The good thing about the three injections I received over the next two weeks gave me a reprieve from my conjestion and coughing. I didn’t cough for two months. So, all during the lockdown and the world pandemic, I was symptom free. God was good to me.

The panic arising during this very strange time taught us all a lesson — that even in the silence and stillness of life, there are always thoughts to ponder and emotions to regulate.

About a month ago, my spiritual director — knowing that I was living in a relatively dark world — suggested that I may want to write about it, here on my blog. I couldn’t. Time was warped for me. Thoughts were scattered and inconsistent. My spiritual life was suffering immensely and I didn’t know what to do about it. The Holy Spirit was trying to lead me in the direction of home, but I was unable to follow. I knew I was encountering darkness, and I knew I was being tested. But, I couldn’t pick myself out of the muck. I knew the direction I was supposed to take, but I couldn’t grab onto the rope being thrown to me. I knew there were things I needed to let go of, but I couldn’t let go until the feelings that guided my thoughts were sorted out. I was trying to let go, but first I had to discover exactly what needed sifting.

I spent most of my “alone” time, trying to contemplate my raison d’etre. It never came.

Finally, FINALLY I had a heart-to-heart conversation with my spiritual director and the spiritual knots began to unravel. I actually carried the conversation over two sessions, and we’ll probably need more. It’s a beautiful thing when the Holy Spirit gives us the leeway to learn, to be who we truly are. It’s a beautiful thing that God allows us to live in our darkness and yet still loves us with all the power and might of perfection. I’m humbled to still believe.

God bless you.

Good night.

Sharing gravere… (grief)

This documented journey is not always easy to write. At times, the sharing is more real in life than inside me. And, I’m not sure which is harder. But, I’m sure it’s making an impact on me. Here I sit, ruminating about the past week’s events. I can barely bring myself to say it. I’m in a dreamland, where nothing is real but God’s grace.

Exactly a week ago, I went to Sunday night Mass expecting to feel good because the bishop was celebrating. But, at the onset, he announced that a prominent holy priest had died suddenly the night before. I gasped. My friend (I’ll call her Dee) who was with me, also gasped. And, we could hear shock ring through the congregation. I could no longer participate in the Mass. I lowered my head and cried for most of the celebration.

As the week slid by, I found myself in disharmony over and over again as I realized the impact this would have on the lives of those around me; my friends, my circle of priests who now have to carry on without him. They have to grieve and also take care of their flocks. How is that going to happen? My lack of understanding the dynamics threw me into disarray. I could not comprehend how it would affect my own dear spiritual director, who had previously told me that the deceased priest was his best friend.

Then, Friday came. The Catholic Vigil/Wake took place on Friday night. I asked my friend, Jane to come along, and she graciously accepted. We walked into the church, paid our respects to the dear priest who had gone to the Lord and found our seats. I knew I needed to be as close to the Lord as possible. So, I walked over to the tabernacle to kneel and pray.

A priest who I did not know, was already there, on the other kneeler, praying a rosary. I kneeled next to him and began to pray. But, grief struck, and I began to cry. Tears rolled. I forgot my tissues, so I was continually wiping away tears. I tried to be quiet and considerate but it did not work. The priest — he too began to cry. I could hear his sighs and weeping, and we couldn’t stop. We cried together for a long time. It was a holy string of moments of shared grief that I will never forget. It was one of the most touching healing moments in my life. My friend, Dee, said later, as I shared this story with her that it was the Holy Spirit. He was pouring himself out upon us. Come Holy Spirit, please pour your love out upon all our priests. They all need healing. Please come.