Oh the Lord Heals in Mysterious Ways

I think this is going to be the title of a song soon to be written at a later date; I honestly thought that there was something already by this title, but I cannot find it anywhere... which only means... it remains to be written.

:)

So if there is anyone out there who thinks that the Holy Spirit is just a silent partner in the Trinity, they really just ought to walk a week in my shoes to find out that this is not at all the case. The most recent example in which I am left with my mouth hanging open in awe took place last Sunday.

It was a Sunday morning in which I had no other commitments in my morning; I was not scheduled to play music anywhere, there were no exams to work or papers to write. I was not scheduled to be at work until 1300H, which left my morning, wiiiiiiide open.

Late Thursday afternoon, I received a very delayed response from an old friend apologizing for missing my earlier email regarding Ash Wednesday service times. She told me about the upcoming services for Holy Week and mentioned that it would be great to see me if my schedule permitted. I sent a quick reply back mentioning the idea that I might be present on the Sunday morning and left it at that.

I arrived to the church 4 minutes before the service was scheduled to start, found a make-shift parking spot, and quietly "snuck" into the church without really making eye contact with anyone or chatting about anything; I managed to find a seat in which there was plenty of space between myself and everyone else near the back of the church (easy for a quick escape).

The service started out as "normal" as normal could be. The words found their way to my lips without any struggle or prolonged searching... it was like I hadn't been away from the church at all.

...and then the first reading started...

"The Lord said to Samuel, 'How long will you grieve over Saul?'" and it was as though there was no other place I was supposed to be. It was as though I, personally, was being asked the rhetorical question of, "how long will you grieve over not being in the ordination stream?"... or "how long will you grieve over the relationships that are seemingly lost?"... or "how long will you grieve?" In it's own way, it was a wake up call for me. I have literally spent YEARS (I think I'm coming up on four years?) mourning what could have been and would have been if I had not completely screwed it up. Spent years in hiding, hoping that my relationship with God and the other individuals would completely dissolve as an expression of the punishment I deserved for screwing up in the first place... and now, was being asked just how long I was intending on wasting time on this spiritual journey living in this state of self-inflicted grief.

From there, I forget what the second reading was, but the Gospel was about the Blind Man who was gifted back his sight by the Lord. I cannot pretend that all the mud was completely wiped clean from my eyes and my heart in one service, but there was a tiny crack in the dried mud that let just enough light through for me to realize... I was not alone. My eyes... and my heart... were opened, even if just a little.

But following the Gospel, there was something I had never witnessed before in a service... there was not a sermon. Instead there was a "personal witness"; the parishes lay reader stood up in the middle of the church with his booming voice, and told the congregation of his great life trial and now God remained there. Even in the darkest of hours, God remained faithfully there. And then, one of the associate priests stood up and shared her story about how she found healing in forgiving others. But not just forgiving people, but forgiving people who had committed suicide and would never know they were forgiven. The journey of forgiving people who meant a lot to her, including herself.

And then, as if my head wasn't exploding enough at that point, the old friend who was presiding - stood up and transitioned the congregation into a healing service. All three clergy stood at the altar rail, anointing members of the congregation that approached them... for healing! My butt stayed firmly glued to my seat and I merely listened to the music that was being played/sung and just took it all in; while I am not quite ready to march up there and ask for prayers of healing and anointing, there was an insane and bizarre feeling of healing in just being present. Being among others who were hurting and in need of healing for whatever reason. I don't think I can even put the feeling into words... but the majority of the congregation was going up to the front at their turn and similarly to the blind man in the Gospel, I was starting to realize what it meant to see the healing of God incarnate.

They were opened enough to see that I am not alone in experiencing some type of spiritual distress and darkness... there were others (and lots of them!) who were facing periods of wilderness and darkness. My eyes and heart opened enouigh to see that it is completely acceptable to carry oneself as far as the foot of the cross before kneeling in humble need to ask God and the church, to carry them in the time of trial. It was absolutely phenomenal! I think part of me was previously living in doubt and thought that only one or maybe two people would ever open themselves in such a humbling manner to God's healing love and grace. Soooo incredible and soooo, beyond words.

And, just to keep in the mind-blowing aspect of things, the closing hymn was "We Cannot Measure How You Heal". The second and third verse of the hymn were:

"The pain that will not go away

the guilt that clings from things long past,

the fear of what the future holds,

are present as if meant to last.

But present too, is love which tends the hurt we never hoped to find,

the private agonies inside,

the memories that haunt the mind.

So some have come who need your help

and some have come to make ammends,

as hands which shaped and saved the world

are present in the touch of friends.

Lord, let your Spirit meet us here

to mend the body, mind and soul,

to disentangle peace from pain

and make your broken people whole"

I sat there and had to re-read the lyrics over and over and over again because I could not believe that someone I had never met could write a song that not only spoke my story, but read the unspoken of my heart. The only part that I wasn't sold on was how one who was soooo very far from home could feel God's love in the touch of friends. I have spent the last two years ENSURING that I was encircled by secular people as I worked on my nursing degree... and when I felt that I could finally walk on my wobbly legs, I went to leave the church.

Wanting to avoid the shaking of hands with the clergy, I went over to the far door to leave. However, apparently someone much bigger and wiser than I had different plans. For by the time I could get to the entryway, the lay reader was waiting for me with an outstretched hand, waiting. And before I could get outside the church, the priestly friend had a huge hug waiting.

I guess some might call it a coincidence that my schedule was open on this particular Sunday at 1030... that after all this time away from my home, I felt this urge to go to church... that the service just happened to be a healing service... that two people shared stories that would resonate in ways that they will probably never realize... that God ensured I was tangibly shown His touch before running out.. and that the readings and music could have just as easily had my birthdate and name in them as identifiers... but those are a LOT of weirdly connected coincidences.

Yes, most definitely, the Lord begins the hard work of healing our broken and shattered hearts, in thee most mysterious and holy of ways.

And the winner today... Dr. J

"How is the medication working?" (Dr. J)
"Yes, I think so, but... it seems to leave me with a really dry mouth" (YS)
"Does this bother you?"
"Well, yes. You see, I was playing saxophone the one morning in church and there were a subsequent number of squeaks that are not normally part of my music because I couldn't gather up enough saliva to keep my reed damp enough..."
"Oh, you play the saxophone?"
"Yup!"
"Where are you going to church?"
"Well, I don't really refer to it as 'going to church' because I am really and truly only there for the music"
"You aren't there for God?"
"Nope"
"Are you mad at God? Because as a Christian (pointing to themselves at this point), just know that you are never alone in that journey"
"Ok"
"I once had a patient call God a very, very, very, very, very, very, very bad name - one that would never come out of my lips... are you afraid of God?"
"Uhhh... (voice quivering slightly)..."
"We should work on that. Find someone that we can talk to about that. We can both do that and we will compare notes next time."

I no longer felt completely alone on this journey where judgment seems to come before acceptance and more importantly, really respect a health care professional who is up front with me and calls it like it is - even if it threw me for a loop initially.

Tonight, I give thanks for the gentle way in which the truth was sought about a touchy subject and the reassurance that was shared, reminding me that I am not alone, not an alien, and not forgotten.

Speechless

Well, all in all... it was a pretty good night.  At the last possible moment before leaving for ball tonight, I got an email from my supervisor saying that the schizophrenic role that I portrayed on Tuesday with my mom, "Maria" was so stellar, the medical faculty wishes to arrange a taping of the two of us to send out to other cities in the program.  Which, after I finished I laughing, was a huge sigh of relief and affirmation.  We'll see if that actually transpires or if they were just kidding...

Then, headed over to the ball diamonds, where we trounced the other team a whopping 13-4.  And, better yet, I contributed to the run total!  

I then had a 20 minute drive to reach destination "x" in order to drop off the S.L.S. Survival Kit. At which point, surprisingly, panic set in.  I had honestly only known "Maria" for a total of maybe 3 months - and even then, only saw and talked to her a small handful of times (less than 10!).  What if.... what if she was the not the heart I was to touch, the outlook I was to affect, or the life I was to give just enough to?  The shocking part in all this is that I did something that I haven't done in almost a year... I asked a friend to pray for Maria's heart to be open and willing to receive what was on it's way to her.  I kid not, I was literally shaking as I pulled up to the address which I had written on my arm; I nearly tripped on the flat sidewalk, over my own two feet.  I knocked on the outside door, fought the temptation to run, and after standing there and working to build up my confidence - pulled the outside door open just enough to reach the doorbell.  

Sweet!  No answer - I can put the bag between the two doors and she will find it eventually.  However, heading back to my car, the door opened and I hear, "hey!".  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... I'm busted.  Do I get the car and speed off?  Run as fast as I can on foot and pretend that's not my car?  Ohhhhh crap!!  Nope.  Didn't do any of those things unfortunately.  I turned around.  Oooops.  Maria wanted to know what this package was and so I started explaining it, but told her it would all make sense when she opened it later.  And so... we talked.  

She opened my eyes to the reality that people on commercials don't usually use the product themselves.  Like hemorrhoid cream supporters on T.V... prolly don't even have hemorrhoids; Ellen most likely doesn't use Covergirl, defying aging cream and actors on coffee commercials probably don't even drink coffee.  I decided... I'm going to write to Ellen.  

Watching a sports car go by, Maria made a comment that hers was better - and I thought it was a joke.  She normally bikes everywhere!  At which point, she opened the garage and... there it was... (drooling!).  She asked if I had time to go for a ride - and when I made a kind of squealing noise, I think she took that as a yes.  Off we went... AAAA mazing!  She is racing it on Sunday and invited me for a ride-along.  I wish I could put into words how excited I am. 

Whether it was conversation, riding along on the open road with the windows and top down, or the gift that just kept on giving... she was laughing and crying and laughing.  And, I received the greatest compliment of all time... "you should go into business doing this sort of thing.  Really, I mean it!  I LOOOOOVE this!"  She kept all the little notes that went with each gift, setting them carefully on the coffee table to show her other half when he gets home.  

Life is way too short to spend everyday of our busy lives always looking in or down.  And I got the impression that although she may never actually use any of those ridiculous gifts, a pretty rough week may have been turned around... if only for a moment.  Well, this ordinary person is off to bed.  Life needs a' ponderin', sleep needs a gettin', and maybe (just maybe), someone needs a thankin'.  

Letter from the Pigs

***phone ringing***



"Hello?"
"Hello Chickagale, this is God speaking"
***shocked facial expression inserted here***
"Chickagale, please close your window and get into bed and warm your lil' piggies up. My peeps can't handle letters of complaint from your pigs this week..."

Just as a point of clarification, the bold is the "booming voice of God" and the picture of feet is definitely not my own foot, but yet, an accurate representation of the lil' piggies. :D