Letting go of having to know

I have spent so long walking in darkness, so long desperately wanting  to walk in the light that it has not occurred to me to simply walk in the darkness. I have never considered that perhaps the One who holds me in the palm of His hand can see in the dark. Acknowledging this would mean, of course, trusting more and since trust is not one of my strengths this might be easier said than done.

My spiritual director suggests that is it simpler than I am making it, and that it is more a case of letting go of having to know. None of us really walk knowing what is happening or what will be around the next corner, so all of us walk in darkness to some degree, that the small light we are given does not really push back the greater darkness that surrounds us. He says that perhaps I should stop holding my breath against possible further awfulness and just be where I happen to be more.

The thing about this Jesuit way is that it unseats the ingrained habits of a lifetime and takes me entirely unexpected places.

Language

I am finding that this process of finding a new perspective under Ignatius's guidance is changing the language I use to myself and to others and that is very strange.

Under the, not always so gentle, paring away of old attitudes I discover that all I really want to do is fall more and more deeply in love with the Lord. I learn that I am drawn into the Lover of my Soul and that I want so badly to cease any resistance to that drawing. But while the habit of resistance dies hard I begin to believe that in my experience of that Love. In odd moments I fall into a breathtaking continuing experience of God's expansive Love. Perhaps the words are "ever expanding Love."

These are words that might describe something that was half hidden and certainly mostly unconscious in me but is becoming more exposed. But they are certainly words I would not have used a few months ago.

Bees in a bucket

Yesterday we were invaded by a swarm of wild bees who had moved (the bee man thinks) from their rural home to find water. Most likely they settled in my garden because it is organic and lacks artificial fertilizers and chemicals. The bee man came at dusk just as light drizzle set in to gather these bees and take them to one of his hives where they will be safe from extermination and allowed to live bee lives. Carefully he manoeuvred his plastic bucket up underneath them, gave the branch a smart tap and in they dropped neatly as you like.

Hastily he put the lid on as the bees hummed at being disturbed then he disappeared into the evening taking the bees to their new home on the bus.

As he left I found myself thinking that this man's passion and deep love for his bees was something very special and that I had been blessed by the bees visit and in meeting with him.

I am an accountant...maybe

I am an accountant. I say so on my sidebar and for all my working life I have been able to say this quite unequivocally. Accounts is not what I do, is is what I am. I know that I think like an accountant in many diverse areas of my life from parenting to praying. I was born to a family of accountants and soldiers, going back four or five or six generations. Sometimes the two lines even mixed when some members were quartermasters to this Imperial army or that. So you might say it's in my genes. Diner table talk in inclined to revolve around economics and finance and budgets and deeply technical aspects of our work. Something that drives Vetboy mad as no one really shares his interest in science and things veterinary.

Beyond the genetics and the family history being an accountant has always made me happy, and I have not ever really wanted to do anything else.

But I discover that if you get mixed up with them Jesuits and with Ignatius then your perspective on things begins to change. Not dramatically at this moment in time but enough for me to be aware that my longing for God is stronger and more demanding than I ever imagined it could be. I find that perhaps I am being shifted out of my happy, simple life as an accountant into something quite Other.

Only just right now I can't say what that Other might be.

Well I have learnt this much. Breathe. Wait. The Mysterious God walks with me in the Darkness, perhaps.

And the Other will reveal itself.

Doctors, vets and nurses

Isn't it odd how things bunch together?

I have had a little too much of doctors and vets and nurses this week and the whole medical go round is quite exhausting.

Originally it was only planned that my dear little black cat be spayed but it didn't turn out that way. On Monday Vetboy's large but gentle warmblood cross was taken to the horse hospital for surgery to save her eye which had become inexplicably ulcerated. At this stage the surgery seems to be successful.

Little cat was spayed yesterday and still is wandering around very gingerly but will heal.

And today Small (who only saw the surgeon yesterday) had surgery to sort out a torn cartilage in his knee. Surgery on this boy is never simple as he is diabetic and asthmatic but again he has come through it just fine.

Too much surgery for one week but a great deal of gratitude for the surgeons and nurses and hospitals that accommodated and cared for various two and four footed members of my family and that all are recovering well at this point.

Four horses and a lost sheep

Small came home at lunch time today with several friends. They, like all eighteen year old boys were hungry, very hungry so they lounged around my kitchen as I made lunch. Not that their presence would make lunch cook any faster! They began to discuss their Religion Class this morning where they are learning about other faiths and had had a Buddhist from the local Buddhist Centre. Other than their feeling that he did not much like Christians and told them that Buddhism was a way of life rather than a religion they were intrigued with his story of the Four Horses and their response to a riding crop. In his version the

excellent horse sees the shadow of the riding crop and moves forward
good horse feels the crop on its hair and moves forward
average horse feels the crop on its skin and moves forward
and the
poor horse only moves forward when it feels the crop in its bones.

The boys all wanted to be the excellent horse, but decided that they were most likely were good or average. I thought that I was like them but in truth was more like the poor horse. And surprised myself by realising that Jesus came for the "poor horses" of this world.....judging by the stories He told. Stories of sheep that wandered off or coins that got lost or sons who returned home in shame.

Suddenly being a poor horse wasn't such a bad thing after all.

A little light

Today after Mass someone I know, but not well, came up to me and said thank you for my recent posts. I must have looked like a stunned mullet as I didn't even know she knew my full name let alone that I had a blog. Carefully I asked what about them had made such an impact. She said that she too has suffered from the same self destructive urges for years and had been deeply ashamed of how she felt. She said that she was in many respects a fortunate woman whom many would envy yet she still suffered from this bleak despair.

Then I read my comments to discover that another suffered the same way.

I had not set out to break any taboo, I am not that kind of person. Not that brave anyway. Yet one small crack  has let a little light in.

Grace at work again.