Miracle Morning 2

The Lord has been so good to me. The true story of our love is so much better than any of the heroic and romantic fictions that flood our cultural imagination. He moves and stays my heart like a stringed instrument, I am at the mercy of his skillful hand. When He chooses, I am free, and only then.

Ten years ago, we were so self-contained in our love. I could not have cared less how anyone else saw me, I needed no other motivation, I had no unmet needs. I knew who I was and what I had to do. But it didn't last. The world broke me down, stripped my confidence, stole my identity, made a total fool of me, and added so many responsibilities I didn't want, leaving me to fulfill them without the strength I once so surely felt, Yes, I am much more pathetic in my own eyes these days. That is good. This moment's bread is all I dare request from Him. It is good. This is more authentic love, much more in tune with the suffering of others, much less about me. The romance continues. One love becomes many. Each wound a new kiss from the One.

I have had this thought of late that I may have been idolatrous in my quest for a vocation. As in making an idol of some imaginary future state of life. Some monastery or home where I would finally feel complete and know, from there, precisely the steps to take to heaven. There is some truth to it, I think. To know one's cross and embrace it. I am sometimes jealous that Christ knew exactly what to say and do in every moment, and the whole map of His life was laid out before Him. Step-by-step directions for the journey. But I don't actually believe that is how it was for Him. Not in his humanity anyway. God's freedom, like ours, is mysterious. Some answer hides in the Eucharist. He said it to Simon, and He says it to me: "Feed my sheep." Be bread. In prayer. In work. In word. Nourish others with your love. Be a sweet fruit on the Tree of Life. One single moment of love, one choice at a time, everything else is a source of fear and pain because God isn't there.