Story one - Fist shaking in the Lady chapel
Well, it has been a time and our media have had a lovely year bringing us every possible conceivable angle on the whole COVID thing. Pictures, graphs and editorials. Much ink, much screen space, much grumpiness and some not so polite difference of opinion. It’s all out there for us to see, hear and engage with.
What is not so clear is what our response should be when we come back to that quiet, still place deep within us when we encounter the Living presence of the Risen Christ?
What should we say to Him and more importantly, what is it that He might want to say to us?
It’s probably not a surprise to you that often when I have gone across to say morning and evening prayer that there have been times that I have sallied forth with a torrent of understandable angst and even shaken my fist for good measure. It’s probably not me at my finest and I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t allow the Master to say what He has to say. It certainly doesn’t ease any restrictions, but it is good, honest, raw, logical prayer. You could almost argue it from the other end and say that there might be something wrong with me if there wasn’t an element of crankiness and despondency in my prayer this year.
Part of my message then is one of encouragement. That if you find yourself in the fist shaking prayer mode then that is perfectly acceptable and God will not strike you down and smite you. Rather, He will calmly wait for you to finish and when it’s all done, then I am sure that there are some things that our loving Father will want to say to you.
Things like mmm…
Try this itchy jumper on and see if it might fit.
What if … He wants to say to us that it isn’t about you and me. It isn’t about what we can and can’t do this week or next week. Pastoral care 101 was this. That it must always be about the person who is in the hospital bed. It’s not about you, the visiting priest or person, your wants, your needs, your feelings. There will be time enough for that later on. When you are there in the moment, it is always about the other. The person in the bed and the person sitting beside the bed.
So I think… I think .. that when I finally settle down and my fist shaking energy is finally exhausted, I think he says to me “Have you considered your brothers and sisters in ICU today? Have you thought about how their families are feeling? And here you are cranky, because you can’t go and have a parma and pot at the local. Have you thought about those who have to bury their nearest and dearest today? And you’re crabby because you had to have 3 goes to get the QR code to work? Really, David? . . . It’s not about us .. what we can and can’t do. It must always be about the person in the bed and those who sit beside them. Get that focus right and everything else falls into its proper perspective.
- End story one
Story two -Stepfather
Most of you know that my parents divorced and each remarried. Within the space of a few years I found myself with an extended family of step brothers, step sisters, a step Mother and a step Father. It was a bewildering time and I am pretty sure that I did not make it easy for my stepfather who came to live with us. It took many years and a much wider perspective to begin to understand.
I read something the other day that helped. Paul Connolly wrote it.
“When their mum began dating Malcolm, Caitlin wouldn’t look him in the eye and Penny scoffed “Nice try!” whenever he asked about her day.
When he started sleeping over, Theo dipped his toothbrush in the toilet. Malcolm endured such slights with stoicism, grace and mouthwash.
He loved Clem and believed her insistence that they were good kids. The trio soon realised Malcolm was not going away. Indeed, he was always there.
On the sidelines at their sport, waiting in the car as their friends’ parties ended, beside them inside frightening emergency departments.
They began loving him long before they realised it.”
This makes sense of my petty tirades in the Lady chapel and God’s response to my ‘How come…’ and ‘When… pray tell..??
The line “The trio soon realised Malcolm was not going away. Indeed, he was always there”, I found particularly helpful.
One day I realised that God was not going away no matter how dissatisfied I was with his performance appraisal. He was always there. He was always going to be.
And then the line
“They began loving him long before they realised it.” This was just what I needed to read.
I began loving God more and more, long before I realised it. Perhaps you also have been loving him more and more, long before you realised it.