”Remember that you are the grain of wheat the Gospel speaks of. If you don’t bury yourself and die, there will be no harvest.“
St. Josemaria Escriva
There are days when the words come easily to your head and heart. There are days when you feel you need to turn off your marathon-running-mind and catch your breath. There are days when hours with friends catching up is not nearly enough. In contrast, there are also days when you cannot speak. Days when the emotions you feel so deeply paralyze you into a ceaseless silence. And this silence has been going steady for me for the past three months. After being called out by a few of my friends and faithful blog-readers, I knew it was time to end my dry spell and finally write again.
Today, I had the amazing blessing of sitting before the blessed Sacrament at a retreat put on by my parish. After I got my fix of people-watching and having distracted discussions with myself about nothing, I finally was able to enter into a conversation with the Lord. Kneeling in the back of St Paul’s after almost a year abroad, I realized many things remained the same. The sanctuary was the same blue, the music was still breathtaking, the parishioners carried on with similar conversations, and I found myself with my face in my hands struggling with the same problems. And similarly to Jesus approaching the tomb of His dear friend, Lazarus, I wept.
Had I been the only one in the church, I would have thrown myself to the ground in total humility and begged for His mercy. Instead I had to rely on my inner dialogue to emphasize my point and my desperation. I LONG for His healing. I LONG for freedom that only comes from Him. I LONG for His promises to come to fruition. But I have so many unanswered questions. How could I, after a year of serving You, throwing myself at Your feet, crying countless tears, and totally submitting to Your will STILL not be cured from this sinfulness and struggle with this desire for a future that is not within reach?
Being surrounded by a plethora of supportive friends and family that compliment my sacrifice and service has truly only served as, stealing St. Paul’s words, a thorn in my side keeping me humble. I am not any more “special” than the hundreds of beautiful witnesses living the vocations Christ has placed before them. I am not any more courageous than those who DAILY sacrifice for their spouses and children. And I am no more holy than those who show up to work every morning with a smile on their face ready to take on another day. I am only a 24 year old woman who begged the Lord to heal her and was taken thousands of miles away from reminders and memories in order to do so.
Although I hold children that are not mine, I am just as inspired by those of you who remain at home in the states and have the awesome task of raising your own for the Kingdom. I absolutely love your witness, admire your patience, and pray for the day when I can begin asking for your advice with my own family.
So as I continue down the road that the Lord has made for me, I beg you all for your prayers that He may pave the way for healing, sanctification, and beauty within. I am far from mirroring the perfection of the blessed Mother but, I am one day closer to becoming the woman He has created me to be.