I am going to give myself a pat on the back for the weekend, acknowledging providence within a timely telephone call. Friday meeting with Dr Nichta, I was off kilter, knowing in my heart I should not be going to Missouri. No matter how much the granting of a free rental car for the weekend pointed toward Missouri, the trip offered an adventure into spiritual pointlessness. I knew it, yet an angry heart drove me forward. The abbey calling as I became extremely sleepy, struggling to drive, unable to truly grasp driving so far after working a turnaround shift, and most of all: a thorough disillusionment centering, it is a marvel my cell phone rang. I emailed the abbey the day before, not expecting a call, planning to simply arrive whenever I did. They always have an open room. However, this visit was not meant to be. Still I fought. I told the abbey I would just get a hotel room. It demonstrates that obstinacy, an unwillingness to pay heed to the voice of God can draw one away from Divine Will. It would not have been evil for me to drive over seven hundred and fifty miles to the monastery, yet it was not God’s will. I am positive about that today. After hanging up with the abbey, the reality I should not make the trip became utterly convincing. I was forced to acknowledge I was throwing a temper tantrum. I kept going. I rationalized, pointing to the new community of Vietnamese Trappist I wanted to encounter. The Vietnamese monks would make everything meaningful, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Yet debate and excuses never win in justifying rebellion against Divine Will. Swallowing my pride, I exited west bound, heading back east. Resting Friday night in my bed, I knew I made a wise choice. I was blessed with a moving Saturday.

Overall as I approach a year anniversary, reflecting upon the fact a year ago I was drinking myself to death in a hotel room, I am pleased, grateful for the miracles God has worked within my life. Clarity and peace of mind absent at times, I am strong in my core being, spiritually expanding within permanency. This is it, my final thrust toward the divine. The rest of my life is a concentration upon God. Understanding, the contemplative concentration is only effective if the rest of my life properly supports–balance, healthy in all aspects, is vital. Again I stress, hoping my words will enlighten another, prayer has never been difficult. The spiritual aspect of life comes easy. Life has been the hard part. It is not my spiritual life that collapses. It is my natural. Right now, I am still being overwhelmed by everything with Ann. It is so overpowering I am rendered helpless, unable to process or make declarations anymore. I just have to let everything go. The entirety of that situation defeats me. I admit my weakness. Nothing matters except letting go. Today in his homily Father Phil spoke about not seeking justice, utilizing a favorite phrase of mine, one I use in various poems: ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. The phrase originates in Exodus, yet in the New testament, in the New Covenant through Christ, truth is expanded to forgiveness (today’s reading Matthew chapter 5). I relate the phrase also to a Nick Cave song ‘The Mercy Seat’:

And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I’m yearning
To be done with all this measuring of proof
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
But I’m afraid I told a lie

Reflecting back on the weekend, I also treasure the couple of hours with Janette. Stunned by my struggles, God blessed me with her company. God demonstrates through her. A woman of ninety-six years, her story needs more definition for proper understanding. Janette never married until she was in her late forties. Raised in a large Ohio farm family, she remained single, watching her brothers and sisters marry and raise children. A healthy social woman, staying with her parents, she explained she just never married. She wanted to marry and have children, yet it was not her destiny. You have to listen to her explain her life in order to comprehend the innocence, the complete lack of feeling sorry for herself. Always active in her Polish Church, she was assigned driving duties for a trip to Detroit. She drove a car full of females and a man she did not like, because of his incessant teasing, drove a car full of men. She disliked the man even more driving up to Detroit due to his tendency to drive at high speeds, and his seeming determination to lose her. The following day, the man gave her a Rosary. The next month he asked for a date. She would eventually marry the man, a musician and worker for the Chevrolet Corporation. Married older, there were no children. Her husband is dead. Her brothers and sisters are dead. Her only visitors are her two cousins and a neighbor. Janette lays in that hospital bed knowing she will never leave that room. She does not leave her bed. When I first visited, she spoke of returning home. That talked ended when they sold her home. Never once have I witnessed her in a sour or lethargic mood. The details of her life amaze me, no matter how many times I hear some of them. Her story of her mischievous nature as a child always makes me laugh. There was a neighbor man who would drive some of the kids to school. He lived alone and there were rumors he drank too much, yet she never saw anything to tell her he was nothing but a most splendid man. The man would allow her to ride upon the side running floorboards, hanging on through an open window. Standing and riding in a manner she knew was mischievous brought her great joy. Her mother caught wind of matters, putting her foot down, ordering her to stop before she hurt herself. Janette stopped, yet one day she did not know what got into her, but she just had to ride standing on the floorboard. To her great dismay, they struck a bump and she was thrown from the car, scraping and bruising herself quite badly. Arriving home a mess, fearful of her mother’s reaction, she was surprised her mother remained calm, not scolding her. Rather her mother silently cleaned her up. Janette says it really would not have mattered if her mother did scream since she was crying so hard she would have never heard the reprimand. Finally after putting her to bed, her mother asked if she learned a lesson. She nodded her head yes and slept for almost a whole day she was so exhausted from her misadventure into rebellion. God is good and giving when we are willing to listen.

Fortitude a Pathway