Some meaningful excerpts and commentary on what I'm reading today:
"My soul hath desired Thee in the night; yea, and with my spirit within me in the morning early I will watch for Thee." (Roman Breviary)
I love this. In the night, the only thing my soul is desiring is a non-homicidal pathway to the bathroom, and two baby boys to continue sleeping through the night. This is a rarity on both accounts. Sure, I have had brief moments where this could have been true of my soul, but now? I suppose you could say that in seeking Him through my vocation of marriage, although I have tried to remain generously open to children, I have allowed selfishness to creep into my soul through years of living in "survival mode." In the night, I am apparently just looking out for Number One.
When I read this quote, I am reminded of the little hermitage I have desired for so long. Some call it the "Fertility Shed," and rumor has it it might be named Bumpass Manor after a town in Virginia. But I'm seeing my simple little dwelling, and myself staying in it, rising through the night, praying, singing, praying some more, listening to the wind rustle the foliage around our house. I think of my household sleeping peacefully next door, and I cherish my time in the quiet with the Holy Spirit. Sunrise beckons, and I open a window to let the fresh air in. Throw in a little bread, something hot and comforting to drink, some spiritual reading and the smell of somebody using their wood stove or fireplace and we are talking about a little slice of Heaven. I wrap things up, and invite the Lord to come back with me to the family abode, where I serve Him in my family in joy and tranquility of spirit, "no longer...troubled about anything, knowing that only one hting is necessary, 'to seek God,' and that in God it will find everything it needs."
That is my Wannabe Hermitage experience. Here's my predicted reality: I rise, and I have to go to the bathroom, because I drink too much and I have had eight kids take up residence and do the rhumba upon my bladder. No problem! This will only take a second. So I enter my house, and the homicidal pathway problem strikes again. I stumble on some toy, or trip over a pile of laundry, and some loud noise is emitted, either by me or the toy, and a small child hears. I use the bathroom and enounter said child afterward. "Can I come out with you?" "No, sweetie, you need to sleep in your bed." Shuffle said kiddie up to bed. The baby smells me within one cubic light year and awakes. Do I get him? Do I not? Let the hubby get him? What do I do? Then I stand there paralyzed until the Mommy gene takes over and I enter the bedroom to assist the poor little infant Jesus in the guise of my son. Unfortunately, I trip on the random petrified yak spleen hiding out there in the dark on my bedroom floor and kill myself. Not really, but I end up in a situation where indeed my soul is desiring Him in the night, and it just isn't going to happen. Then I am just too ticked off in the morning to watch for Him. I pitch a spiritual tantrum. Oh, the frustration of Divine Intimacy. It is no slight matter to the soul.
We were supposed to go to Mass today. I was tired, scattered, having a very ADD day. I could not focus. Three children had asked if we were going to Mass, so I put it up to a vote. They voted "Yea". So humbled and put to shame, I said, "Very well. We have a half-hour to forty five minutes to get out the door. We will not arrive late this time. If we'll be late, we won't go. Now hurry up and get yourselves ready so you can help with the younger ones." Now somewhere in the forty-five minutes that I spent getting myself and the two babies ready, the impetus to get to Mass completely disappeared in my children. So I'm raring to go, and they're...meh. They were to be pretty much good to go when I got into the van, and we would go after I checked the carseats. We'll just say it did not happen that way, and after starting the van and looking at 11:57 staring back at me--Mass begins at 12:05--I said, "Well. Nope! Not going!" And the darkness of spiritual frustration set in. That is not pretty, and I tend to get angry and say things I later end up repeating with remorse in the confessional. Guess where I will be within the next week? In the box.
So we come back around to the desired Hermitage, and the Wannabe Hermitage Divine Intimacyfest. Is it the Lord that I am wanting? Or is it my tiny little hermitage? I do want time with Him. That is an understatement. It has been eight and a half years since I went on silent retreat at Mount Saint Mary's with the Carmelites. I need that kind of experience on a regular basis. I always imagined my adulthood would be spent in calmness, contemplation and spiritual growth, not in a scattered state, just trying to eek past each day until a calmer one comes along.
Or has He been trying to tell me for the last six to eight years that I have to learn to find Him in the baby duty?
"The Lord is in the midst of you." "There is one in the midst of you whom you know not. " "Sometimes He conceals Himself from you, and you think that you will never find Him, never feel Him again. This is the time to redouble your faith, to walk 'in pure faith.'"
This is the time to end this blog, pick up my little antsy baby boy, and serve my Lord in him. God bless you.
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