Waiting to Hear

It was the scariest few seconds!  Every time.  Sitting in the doctor's office, the cold gel on my stomach, waiting for the Doppler to pick up the "thump-thump, thump-thump" sound I was so longing to hear.  After our miscarriage I could not go to a doctor's appointment for our next children without the memory of that first silence creeping in and fear taking hold.  It was usually only a few short seconds, if even that long, but it felt like an eternity.  Felt like time stood still, every time, while I waited to hear and know that they were still with me. 

And of course, when I would hear it, I couldn't help but smile.  It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard!  Every time.  

I was recently thinking about these moments of silence and fear, and the joy that comes with hearing that one simple sound.  And I  couldn't help but wonder what other sounds we wait to hear, long to hear, need to hear, fear the silence of.  Simple sounds, that can make a world of difference.  Sounds we're afraid we may not hear. 

I love you.

You're beautiful.

Well done.

You're not alone.

Those messages that let us know that someone is still with us. Will always be with us.

* * *

I think "You're forgiven" may be another of those sounds.  It's not one we often hear.  The idea of forgiveness today seems to have been simplified to a basic "that's ok" or "don't worry about it," if any words of forgiveness are spoken at all.  Yet do we, as humans, still long to hear that we're forgiven?  While it may not be as obvious a longing as some of the other messages we wait to hear, I'd still like to think so.

I'd still like to believe that we value our relationships enough to desire to know that the other is still with us, in a peaceful and loving state.  I'd like to believe that we still value ourselves enough to want to know that we are fully worthy of another's love and relationship, despite our downfalls.  I'd like to believe that we value our GOD enough to long to know that we are living in the example He set for us.  I believe we wait, we long, we need to hear we are forgiven.  Perhaps we even fear the silence of that message. 

Perhaps the silence and waiting has been so long that we don't even realize any more how beautiful a sound it can be.  How life-changing it can be. 

Or perhaps, in many ways, as much as we fear the absence of that message, we may also fear hearing it.  Precisely because it can be life-changing.  

Being forgiven means making decisions and living in a different way.  Means challenging ourselves to be better, to strive as hard as we can (even though we will still fall short no doubt) to be worthy of those words.  Being forgiven means our relationship taking on a new level.  Means knowing how hard that forgiveness can often be to give, and therefore how deep the other's love for us is to have offered it.  Hearing we are forgiven isn't a sound that can simply pass through our ears and roll off our backs.  It means being ready for change - but a change for the good. 

Like the sound of my children's heartbeats, hearing that sound means things are about to be very different!  But despite the challenge that may mean, it is a wonderful kind of different.  The best kind.   Those "thump-thump's" of my growing little ones made me excited for change.  Because I knew that the change meant life.  Meant love.  Meant everything (challenges and future struggles included) was going to be ok, because GOD's will for me was of goodness.  I knew that was what GOD desired for me, even more so than I was desiring it.  Forgiveness can be the heartbeat of love in our relationships; reconciliation the life blood of our communities and world.  I believe that is what GOD desires for us, even more so than we may desire it for ourselves.  It is a sound we should not fear to hear, but fear the silence of. 

* * *

Tonight is my parish's Lenten Reconciliation Service.  And I imagine, as in past years, it won't be a packed house.  This is a Sacrament that seems more and more to get lost in our society.  I have had many discussions - with youth and adults alike - during my years in ministry about what this sacrament means and why we (do we?) really need it.  There are certainly those who struggle to understand.  There are those who have given up on it all together.  And those who have never really given it a chance to begin with. 

And I must confess (no pun intended) even for me, a full and faithful believer in the Sacrament, I seldom receive it.  Quite seldom actually.  But still in my heart I love the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Perhaps because forgiveness is a sound I long to hear, have waited for what feels like too long sometimes to hear.

Perhaps because in a world where we seldom hear the sound "You are forgiven," the Sacrament allows us to break the silence with that wonderful message.  A sound that in its simplicity also carries the complexity of other wonderful sounds:

I love you.

You're beautiful.

Well done.

You're not alone.

A message that helps us know that someone, an incredible and loving GOD, is still with us.  Will always be with us.

While I may not be the best example of this, and while it may be difficult for me to explain, I believe in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, because I believe that the "thump-thump" of GOD's  heart beats for us.  It comes to us through the "Doppler" of the Sacrament to tell us we are always His, are always a treasured part of Her life.  It comes to us to let us know that everything is going to be ok, and there is a divine will of goodness - of life and love - waiting for us.  Hearing that message just may change things; but it is a change we all need, we all deserve, we all long for. 

No matter if it's been seconds, or what feels like an eternity, I believe we all long to hear this sound.  And it can be the most beautiful sound!  Every time.  

“There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.”

~ Bryand McGill ~

Giving Up: A Mother's Lent

Lent got off to a rough start this year.  Between being sick, having sick kids, having a sick husband, and therefore having gone for weekS without sleeping through the night or cleaning the house, on top of a crazy work schedule, followed immediately by a broken down vehicle and husband's broken glasses...I entered Ash Wednesday convinced that I had already given up enough to last through the 40 days before they had even begun! 

Yet despite my grumblings, I still found myself, as usual, thinking about what I should "give up" this year.  I always have such good intentions.  I think long and hard about what I really need to give up to draw closer to Christ, or what I really need to take up in order to be more Holy.  Not just what's convenient or 'standard,' but what I REALLY should do.  It has to be perfect.  I want so badly to have the deep, transforming experience that Lent promises.  And I used to be very good at Lent, always feeling renewed and better by the end.  Yet somehow, these past several years, I seem to have fallen short.  Between the running and the fatigue of having a young family, by the time I find time to figure out that "perfect" thing for me to give up, let alone find time to take on what I think I should that year, it's practically Holy Week already, so I end up just giving up on the idea of giving up. 

This year as I stewed in my own self-pitty at the difficult weeks of late, and reflected back on the past few years of unsuccessfully deep Lents, I found myself thinking a lot about what I HAVE given up.  What I have had to give up these past years as a mother...

I've given up my prayer time and some of my favorite prayer practices, which just aren't a reality anymore in a busy household shared with others.  I've given up my body, and what feels like all chance to have muscle again, as a result of having to give up some of my favorite exercise habits, along with giving in to plenty of "I'm too tired or don't have enough time to eat healthy" episodes.  I've given up a lot of financial security in order to be sure my children are well cared for, instead of being sure I have things like theater, movies or even eating out with my family or friends that I once enjoyed; I've given up having a social life, at least with any kind of regularity.  I've given up sleep - years and years and years of sleep!!!!  I've given up time alone with Mike, and have practically let go of the memory completely of what it used to feel like to have his undivided attention, let alone of offering him mine.   And, as an introvert trapped in an extrovert's house, I've given up the quiet time I used to treasure and so often need.  I've given up my time, my space, my preferences, often my needs, and sometimes, it even feels, myself. 

I have given up a lot to take on this role of Mother, and even more to try and do it well.  These sacrifices are likely a large part of why my recent Lents have been difficult to focus and follow through on the commitments I think will bring me closer to Christ and who he wants me to be.   

Because it's hard to focus on ME as a Mom.

But this first Sunday of Lent, sitting there in the pew with two extra squirmy toddlers doing their best to test the boundaries, as I found myself thinking of yet another sacrifice I make regularly - "I have given up getting to go to Mass, even when I'm here!" - something hit me.

The Scripture readings spoke about temptation, and help us see that giving in to temptation is making it all about "ME."  The serpent tempted Eve by telling her what SHE could have, what SHE could gain, how things could benefit HER.  And she gave in - not for the common good or promise of wisdom for future generations, but let's face it folks, for herself.  And in Matthew's Gospel, Satan tries tempting Jesus with various offers to make HIM more powerful, to prove HIMself wonderful, to make all the world HIS.  But where Eve (where we) forget about the other, and focus on ourselves, Christ recognized that it's not about himself; it's about something GREATER.  It's about the whole, about the other, about GOD's will for the world.  As Jesus looked out from the mountain top at all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence, he knew they weren't for him; he knew they belonged to so many others as well.  Christ shows us that the world and what we do (or don't) sacrifice in it should be about "them." 

Yet here I was, wrestling with my little ones in the pew and giving in to Satan's wrestlings in my own life, tempting to make it all about ME.  This Lent was off to a bad start because I was tired, because I didn't feel good, because I was stressed.  The past few Lents have been unsuccessful because Kateri didn't gain wisdom, because Kateri didn't feel renewed, because Kateri didn't benefit.  This Mom's life is hard because she has to give things up.  And yet Christ is constantly calling me (and called me especially loud and clear this Sunday) to let go of the idea of "me," and focus on "them."  Why see my sacrifices as burdens, when I can see them as gifts given to my husband and children.  Why focus on what I don't have now, when I can focus on the life, health and values my children will have for years (hopefully generations) to come.  Why focus on who I used to be, when I can focus on who they're becoming.  Why think about giving up, when I can think about what I have received, from Christ, in the process. 

There in the pew I hugged my wriggling daughter, tickled her tummy to make her giggle loud enough to get those looks from other church-goers I usually hate, and made up my mind about what to give up this Lent - I'm giving up on giving up.  Because all that I have given up the past four years, including my "successful" Lenten practices, HAS brought me closer to Christ and who he wants me to be - it has brought me the role of a mother! 

There is nothing I can imagine doing that would draw me closer to my creator; nothing I can fathom giving up that would make me holier.  

This Lent, I thank GOD that it's hard to focus on ME as a Mom!  And I pray that the remainder of these 40 days will keep reminding me of that.  (and no doubt my wiggle-bugs will too)