I’m sorry I was away from the blog for so long. I’ve been struggling with topics that are too close in some ways. I have needed to give it all more thought.
It’s the same struggle we all share, to face ourselves and acknowledge the horror of owning sin and its repercussions--not only the sins of others that affect us in various ways, but most especially our own personal sins that sear us from the inside out and seep out from us like poisoned water.
There is no hope until we cry out for help to the One Who loves us, the Only One Who can save us. We must reach out for His Arm, stretched out to draw us back from destruction. Then we can submit in amazement and gratitude to purification. We can resolve to return love for Love, to follow after our Lord. There is no one else we can turn to. Only Him.
A friend of mine posed several intriguing questions to me that I couldn’t begin to answer without doing at least a little bit of research, so that I could understand the issues involved. Her interest is developing in a different direction than mine. But we are in the same rut in the road as regards coming to terms with personal identity and with feeling dissociated or disconnected.
I am 47 years old, and since my last post, prompted by my friend’s search to understand and to grow spiritually, I have begun to understand my own life better. Things that happened in my life when I was only 6 or 7 years old are still affecting me today, forty years later. And understanding these connections has been critical to my spiritual growth.
Reflecting on my past has been painful because I don’t like having to own up to my sins and faults in the first place, let alone their consequences. But it has been most helpful to understand where they started and the weaknesses that feed them. Since the “age of reason” I have been burdened with misplaced feelings of shame and false guilt. Now, freed of the oppression of that falsity, I freely admit that I am blameworthy and I freely repent of my sins and I freely resolve to do penance and become holier!
The odd thing is, I don’t actually feel guilty now that I really know that I am guilty. Can you understand how this surprises me? I had read of great penitent saints, who wept continually because of their sins. Somehow I had imagined that “weeping in sorrow” meant they felt overwhelmed by shame, and I wondered why they would still feel ashamed since they had confessed their sins.
But I understand now that they wept in sorrow, but they didn’t weep in shame. I understand because I can’t stop crying lately.
Tears of sorrow are not for shame or guilt over sins that have been obliterated in the Furnace of God’s Love through the sacraments. They are the tears of sadness over the waste of years spent trying to please and comfort myself instead of turning to God. They are tears of frustration over engrained vices and long-standing habits of sin getting in my way now that I want to do better. They are the tears of regret over the devastation caused to the lives of not only myself but so many others by my fruitless efforts, useless projects, and wasted opportunities. They are tears of longing to truly see and know and love God, tears of desire to please Him, to draw close to Him. They are the tears of a helpless, hurting child reaching for her Father's safe and comforting arms. They are tears of relief and gratitude and joy at being rescued, of being loved, of being His.
In the meantime, as I struggle to connect my distant past to my present life, I’ve been coming across all sorts of interesting things that are helping me break out of the shadowy underbrush and into the light of the clearing. Some of these--Mass readings, bits of homilies, song lyrics, Scripture study, blog posts, prayers and many little serendipities--I will share with you in the next several weeks as I reflect more on them.
I hope one day to be tearless forever and my only cries to be of joy! Pray for us, Saints of Heaven!
May the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace, and may perpetual light shine upon them! Pray for us, Holy Souls!
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2 comments:
I can understand the tears. Six years ago I had a nervous breakdown. It was in answer to prayers of 2 years, asking God to do whatever it took to break down my walls. God did and I cried for many months...most of those tears were ones of utter thanksgiving that God answered my prayer.
Tears of utter thanksgiving . . . what a beautiful way to put that into words!
Thank you for commenting, Hope. I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner. (It's silly, I know, but while I avidly read the com boxes on other blogs, I forget to check for comments on my own!)
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