Listening ("week" 1, step 1), session 5

What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him? Yet thou hast made him little less than God, and dost crown him with glory and honor. - Ps 8, 4-5

I may remain but a speck of cosmic dust in the vast universe, but the Creator of the universe and of every speck within it deigns to speak to me, to crown me with glory and honor, most of all by becoming a speck like me so that I might become a part of Him. I am nothing, and my physical existence will soon pass away to nothingness, but that doesn't mean that I don't matter. I matter so much that the Creator would not have me simply vanish. How much, then, does this compel me to listen to the only One who has the words of eternal life? To whom else should I go?

People think that humility means debasing ourselves, when in truth it means knowing ourselves in the proper context. I am nothing, really, but I am precious and loved and made something by God himself.

Listen to the love song God sings. Sway to its rhythm. Take up a small thread of its complex, variegated polyphony. Dance within it as it snatches us up in its joyful love and crowns us in glory and honor.

Is this ironic?

It was easier to believe that God would supply my need if I were laid off than that He will in . . . other areas. I may have developed a habit of pessimism and dissatisfaction. This is contrary to the person I have always striven - and thought myself - to be.

Listening ("week" 1, lesson 1), session 4

. . . because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth.  For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.  Therefore I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, that you may be rich, and white garments to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, that you may see. Those whom I love, I reprove and chasten; so be zealous and repent. - Rev 3, 16-19

This excerpt from today's session (Rev 3, 14-22) would sting me were I not already so acutely aware of my wretched, pitiable, blind, derelict nakedness. Still, I know that while I am being completely honest with God about my status, I am not so forthcoming with someone else who should probably know. Perhaps it is a matter of my having "said something" too often for too long with no lasting changes. Perhaps I have grown weary of being a persistent widow, and if so, maybe that resignation is what needs to change in me.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. - Rev 3, 20

I believe this verse to be true. Thus my hope remains, in the One in whose faith I walk, despite my frustrations.

The examen pains me daily

Every day it brings back into focus the very thing that has driven me to seek God to meet my every need. Every day it challenges me to seek a reconciliation where I know I have done no wrong, that the circumstances and thoughts that torment me are outside of my ability to control and that I am in fact doing what I should in response to them. Every day the examen reminds me that I still feel isolated and hopeless. Even on a day when I have received what should be moderately good news on the professional front and yet my heart and soul remain tender toward my departing coworkers, my examen brings me no quarter.

I know that I must shift my focus off of myself and back to God. That's what this decision to undertake the Exercises is all about. I honestly know that it is not a prideful undertaking. Yet even its suggestion about how married persons should best do them is a daily reminder.

Lord, if this is of you, a step toward losing myself more completely so that you might more fully have your way with me, then I embrace your painful pruning. If not, please provide the way you intend for me.

Saying goodbye

The two people I know of who are being let go are pretty irreplaceable.

Me? Not so much. But here I still am.

Oh, one of them has been a good friend, too, and the other has been through the wringer this year, burying both of his parents in a two-week span.

I distinctly remember . . .

. . . the last time I felt this anxious. It was 18 years ago.

I haven't missed this feeling.

Yet I believe that God is providing for our needs, and that nothing will happen tomorrow that will surprise Him.

Listening, session 3

. . . (Samuel) ran to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." But he said, "I did not call; lie down again." So he went and lay down. - 1 Sam 3, 5

What do I run to, mistaking it for the call of God in my life? Could it be that's what this damned empty, dissatisfaction really is: a misinterpretation of God's call?

I was a lot more encouraged by yesterday's session. It is harder today to reject my hopelessness, to trust that God is at work in my life regardless of my feelings. It is harder to respond as Eli taught Samuel: "Speak, for thy servant hears."