"We have become so accustomed to the idea of carrying God in our hearts in Holy Communion that many people, for no reason at all, omit remaining after Mass for a short thanksgiving; we have lost the sense of awe for the terrible power of God within us." ~William G. Most, Mary in Our Life
I've been keeping a log of ten minutes...of how it feels to spend ten minutes alone with God immediately after Mass in Thanksgiving for His gift of the Eucharist...
At first it feels like a punishment, like everyone else gets to visit on their way out of church and travel on to their daily events but me...I have to stay behind like the child who remains at her desk during recess with her head down in her arms because she misbehaved...she always misbehaves...and how many hours filled with ten minutes will it take before she learns to get in line and stay in line?
On Sunday it feels awkward...family goes home and leaves me behind. I hope I blend in as the church empties out from 7:30 Mass and fills again for the 9 AM. I wish I were able to go to my room and close the door so no one could see me with God. Thoughts wander...
On Monday the Church empties quickly. One person stops to ask if I am ok. I do my best to empty my mind of everything but God. It's so hard! Can anybody really do it? The time passes slowly and I check my watch too often.
On Tuesday I ask God to help me to love Him and to think only of Him. I picture His hand pressed back by the nail, blood staining His fingers. Wouldn't He have loved to yank the steel out and walk away? But He didn't. He stayed there on that cross for me and I will stay here in church for Him.
On Wednesday I neglect my time with God to race back to work. I leave Him crying behind the heavy door of the church...and I cry, too.
On Thursday it feels impossible...on Thursday a group of people stay after Mass to clean the church and they chatter...loudly. They stand right behind me and talk about their gardens and their blood pressure and their grandchildren. They are still there talking when it's time for me to go. God hides inside the tabernacle on Thursday and does not make His presence known to me.
But on Friday, with a shiny clean church, God gleams in His house of gold and the church quickly empties into dark and silence. I can feel the radiance of His love in the quiet peace of His home. Ten minutes becomes fifteen and I don't want to leave.
And I wonder why it was only a few weeks ago that He played hide and seek with me and made me search at three different adoration chapels before I could finally find one that was open and fall to my knees in His presence, and now, throughout this week of ten minutes, He drew me to Himself more than once, with many more opportunities to spend ten minutes and then some in the presence of His Eucharistic Self. Suddenly every Adoration Chapel was open and beckoning to me throughout the day! Could He be like me-never satisfied with just a little and always wanting more love? He asks me to love Him ten minutes at a time and I want to give in to His desires, to learn to love Him fully.
This thinking about ten minutes with God turns my mind to Etty Hillesum's An Interrupted Life and her lovely words:
"And when the turmoil becomes too great and I am completely at my wits end, then I still have my folded hands and my bended knee...it is my most precious inheritance...the girl who learned to pray. That is my most intimate gesture, more intimate than even being with a man. After all, one can't pour the whole of one's love out over a single man, can one?"
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beautiful. may you continue to consent to His grace and adore Him in the most Blessed Sacrament.
ReplyDeleteAd Jesum per Mariam.
Thank you for sharing your "10 minutes" reflections! This morning, I sat for 10 minutes before the tabernacle, after Mass. The noisyness faded to complete silence quite quickly and I embraced the peacefulness with a deep sigh of contentment. When 10 minutes was up, I was surprised to find myself in tears at the thought of leaving the Lord alone in the church. I took comfort in knowing that my body was also His tabernacle and wiped away the tears, knowing that He was still with me. I walked into the sunshine, thanking Him for the beautiful gift of the Eucharist. It's good to be Catholic!
ReplyDeleteThis was wonderful!
ReplyDeleteI did the same thing for a few weeks, and I went through almost the same thing you have described here. Mostly, it was an awkward feeling of people wondering if something was wrong with me combined with "when will this guy leave so we can do our normal post-Mass stuff".
Your reflections were really moving to read.
Thanks again for sharing.
God Bless you.
I am so blessed to have an adoration chapel available to me. Churches I attend also have a problem with people forgetting where they are.
ReplyDeleteAnne you are an inspiration. God is indeed in the silence, but God is also in the chitter chatter of gardens and grand-children. Listen for him there and you will find Him.
ReplyDeleteI am blessed by all of these comments and so grateful to all of you for taking the time to share your thoughts about this post!
ReplyDeleteFr. Jon, I thank you especially for your remark about hearing God in the chatter-you're so right and I never thought about it that way before! Instead of becoming irritated and wishing they would find somewhere else to talk or feeling sorry for myself, wishing I could join in their conversation, I will listen for God's voice speaking to me within their words! That's brilliant!