Taize prayer has soothed my weary soul on a number of occasions. Tonight was no different. I went with a lot on my heart. I sat before the icon of Mary and the Christ child and wanted to melt into a different time and space. I could imagine the "foldable" or expanding chapel in Taize and suddenly I was there and that great pull of the Spirit was present. I could feel myself being gently drawn down to the ground by Her power and mercy, like a strong magnet. I opened my eyes and stared back at the flickering candles in this chapel where I sat and I knew that God was with me yet. Emmanuel had not abandoned me in this Advent journey.
I thought of my dear dad and how long he has struggled with his pain. I wish I could take it away from him. He so rarely complains that when he does I comprehend the seriousness of what he is saying. I know that a recent test did not go well for him and I am sure that the doctors and nurses present were at a loss to explain why he had experienced such an odd reaction to the procedure. He was still reeling from its effect when I spoke to him.
I thought of my uncle and his family, devastated at the news regarding his cancer. Christmas waiting took a nosedive for them this week. How unfair! Yet amongst the frustration and dread of the inevitable comes humor and a desire to live until living is done. Hope is an odd entity. The outcome does not always work in one's favour.
Tonight I had to read the passage from Philippians 4:4-7 and I felt as if I stumbled over the words as I proclaimed them. Rejoice? I was unsure I could. Again, I say, rejoice. God is pushy sometimes. I had heard the first time but I was unwilling. Enough already I thought...ok then, You win. I soften, giving into the demand. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. My gentleness? I feel so vulnerable right now. Are those words interchangeable? Then comes the reassurance: The Lord is near. Yes, I do not doubt this. Emmanuel is not far. He is here with me, in me. I cannot separate myself from Him. There is the promise of peace--of not to worry about anything, that the peace of God which surpasses understanding will guard my heart, even in my vulnerability. God promises and those promises are not always understood by our human minds but I have learned to trust in them, even if I initially do not see what I was hoping for.
Then, of course, are those words that could slide in under the radar if I am not paying full attention: supplication with thanksgiving. Even in the pain, I am to be grateful. At the very least, I must thank God for hearing my prayer, and for knowing my needs even before I utter them. At the most, I have to appreciate the greatest gift God gave me in the form of the Son, who became like me--human, vulnerable, joyful, gentle. At moments when life scares me and threatens my stability, I can remember God knows. God was there first. God has been there. God can be there with me now and I know that I will get through. I know that God will hold me just as I long to hold the Christ Child each night in my prayer times.
We are blessed more than we know. I rejoice in a God who guards my heart, even though I know it might be broken into tiny pieces. I rejoice in a God who offers me a listening ear and reminds me of the place of grace in which I stand to know that I have a God who wants to know my heart. I will worry about everything as it is my nature, but hopefully I will hear those words of reassurance not to just when I need them. Again, I say, rejoice.
Peace,
Suzanne
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