I want to expand upon my Holy Week and Easter reflections.  It was a special week.  Many things coalesced.

My work schedule changed, forcing me to attend a different daily mass then my coveted noon mass with the Poor Clares at St Paul’s Shrine. I opted for an early morning mass at a traditionally Polish parish St Stanislaus. I discovered the church was less than two miles from my work. Several individuals praised the church for its elaborate ornamentation and dedication to recovery efforts in substance abuse. My experience proved interesting. The shrine church founded in 1873 lived up to its reputation. The statues, decorations, and ambiance proved rewarding, coupled with my experience of morning mass, a message emerged. Austere, mass attendance numbered only a handful of people. The priest, a holy man in presence, spoke with such a heavy eastern European accent I never really grasped the Gospel reading or his homily. There was a distance within the mass. Receiving the Eucharist, meditating before and after mass, I found myself absorbed by the corpse of Jesus displayed in a sepulcher. I would move off to the side and sit before the deceased Jesus. Musing, the point of loneliness played through my thoughts. Neither focusing upon the negative or positive, the solitary nature of entering death alone became a reality. St Stanislaus in all its beauty, immensity, and grandiose nature seemed appropriate with its lacking of people. Before Christ, I am naked and alone. In service of Christ, brothers and sisters must be adored, yet before Christ I am alone. Yet I am truly not alone. Here the power of Mary to intercede must be kept close to my heart and mind. It is why my tears weeped upon her feet prove efficacious. I cannot stand before Christ alone and proud. I cannot. It is a fact I must accept. Mary is there, waiting, patient, sheltering with her mantle, imploring me not to forget her. With intense love, it is something special for her to accompany me when I present myself to her Son. She draws the angels and saints near, my guardian angel amidst the heavenly ones. After a life devoted to my Holy Mother, she would be severely wounded if not invited to such a solemn occasion as my death and judgement. Holy Mother pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

Another point of reflection is the time I spent with my family during Easter Saturday and Sunday. My father passed away this year and with his passing I sense an emptiness within my mother, brothers, and sister. There are many nephews and nieces, and now grandchildren in this regard, and within all of them I sense a lacking, a shortage of Christ. With the separating from my spiritual partner I recognize mystery regarding direction. Convinced of a destiny with her in my life, her absence leaves a void. Where is the road I follow now that a new Godly reality presents itself? I am not sure. I experienced an overwhelming desire to assist my family, a move back to them springing to mind, yet a concrete sign announced that was not God’s will. Extensive discussion with my spiritual director touched upon the cloistered life, a consecrated life dedicated to prayer appealing greatly, yet he stressed no immediate decisions, emphasizing the importance of allowing reality to settle now that purity, the removal of impurities, the extraction of tainted influence, was being performed. Again the removal, elimination, and negation being essential to spiritual maturity. God demands that I stand alone. Removed from fear and confident, I repose patient and strong.

Prayer is truly my solace, a gift graced from God. The Eucharist calls. I know who I am before Christ. Mass arises as my rallying point, my time of centering. Through the pain, emptiness, and lack of direction, something emerges. Confidence and strength builds as identity and worldly concerns collapse. A new man bows his head. A new man stills his mind. A new man pleads for God to take command. Show me the road to follow Lord. I am your servant, touched to be called Your friend.