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While I try to decide where to go to eat or whether just to eat something on hand, and time runs out, my mind has been messing with a knot. As I said, I have been praying to God, as usual, and being grateful for what I have seen and done and even for my life as it is. I have had to ask myself why I should be grateful for a rather miserable existence for most of my adult life and for an extremely uncomfortable existence for the last several months. A good question, to be sure. In spite of my faith that my prayers are correct, I wanted to tinker with the logic or thoughts behind being grateful.
For a bit nothing came to me. Much like a writer staring at a blank piece of paper upon which they intend to put various notions from several topics together to form a cohesive argument(s) or point(s), while not really being familiar with any of the topics or sure of the point in anything more than an academic manner, I have merely stewed. Then it just made sense. Like looking at an optical illusion in which a three dimensional object appears, I finally saw the notion.
It isn't about me, other than that I am an observer in a way. Life presents the opportunity to see God's work, to participate with others, to try my hand at doing good where that is possible, and to simply be alive and aware. That is all good, but when those things aren't truly viable because of pain, lack of function, illness, or other things, what is left? What is left is simply being alive, being a part of something that is immense, rich, interesting. Even pain, in one sense, can be seen as something to be experienced, if not enjoyed. Why does it hurt? How exactly is that pain sensed and what does it mean?
Knowing God could lift the pain, remove the illness, and make life quite easy and knowing God has not chosen to do that means little either. Miracles are vehicles used to relay certain things to certain people and for various other reasons. Not all are in line to be healed. Some of us are not even simply allowed to perish. Again, it isn't about me.
When you let go of yourself and just allow life to flow around you. When you can see beyond what is right in front of you. I begin to see how much more there is out there. It is humbling. But it is quite sustaining, too. Yes, I am grateful. No, I suppose not everyone can understand. Try it the next time you ache or are ill. Be grateful, see what else there is to see, you might even find the pain is much more tolerable if that wasn't my point in searching. Well, that is that.
Hmm, now... where to eat! Bah, I'm going. I'll figure it out on the road. Later or good night.
As much as my father suffered from his arthritis, and finally his leukemia, he found that when it really hurt the most, he was driven into the presence of God. His pain was the thing that was ultimately the catalyst for his sanctification.
ReplyDeleteI should also say, I like the way you put much of that. The illness becomes a vehicle for you to transcend your self, and expand into the fullness of existence.
ReplyDeleteIllness and pain are odd things. I actually used my main/initial illness as a means of slowing down entering the Church. I... really... didn't... want... to... go... I was afraid (still am, to a degree, and truth be told). I am glad your father saw the slim path through. Many do not. For me, the path through pain and frustration is lit up like the Las Vegas strip, at this point. I feel lucky, perhaps even privileged.
ReplyDeleteAs for that last part... Thank you very much. I was worried I hadn't... gotten that out. I kept thinking what else I could add or how to say it. But nothing else I thought added much to it. And though I sense what I wrote extremely powerfully, like the picture of one of our beloved cats, the words seemed so small or lost. I am pleased that you saw and understand. (Artists, always so picky, finicky, worried! Ha!)