For the Hundredth Time . . .

Portland, OR, Nov. 2 -- I just realized this is the 100th post to this blog. I am amazed at myself!!! But, sadly, still confused. This morning fairly early Charlie and I left our home for the last nine days in Black Diamond, which is about half-way to Spokane -- well okay, Mt. Rainier -- from Seattle. Just about everything I did and everyone I saw required me to drive for half-an-hour or more (and that doesn’t count the time trying to find myself after getting lost). There was one big exception and that was my sister-in-law, Mary, and her family who were maybe a mile or so away. I visited them twice since they were so close and got to see both of my very sweet and lovely nieces. I also found an interesting, funky bookstore within a mile of me and managed to spend probably $60 on books. Oh well, at least I recognize my weakness. I bought two novels but the rest were all spirituality, including two on Celtic spirituality and one on the teachings of Rumi. Very interesting.

Reuniting with my old friends from high school was great. I attended our 20th reunion but missed the 30th (I think no one knew how/where to find me). I have subsequently been with some of them at a few smaller gatherings in the Seattle area over the past several years. At least now I recognize who is who. I have missed out on a lot of fun over the years and am glad to be reconnected with them. I also connected with a friend who moved up to Seattle earlier this spring and spent some time getting to know a more recent friend much better.

Today after we arrived back in Portland shortly after noon, Charlie went to visit the vet. She took his bandages off but decided to leave the sutures in for another week. I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t pulled them out by the end of today. I still need to keep his paw dry so may try to find him some doggie booties. They might be good to have for him anyway, especially if he is going to go cutting his pads. What a hassle this has been, having to keep him quiet, feed him pills, several trips to the vet, and every time he goes outside I have to put a plastic bag on his paw.

Then Charlie camped out in the car while I had a visit with my pastor, Fr. Peter, to talk about visions, plans, questions. Mostly he listened and asked a few questions. He continues to remind me that what God wants me to do is most likely what my heart longs for. My heart continues to pull at me to be close to my parish -- it’s been such an important part of my life since John and I joined when Kristin was four. I’ve invested so much of myself: time, energy, talent, treasure -- that I have a strong sense of ownership.

Although we weren’t members when either Kristin or Karl were baptized, they received all their other sacraments there (except the weddings, of course, dang it) and that is where we said goodbye to John. It has been my support, my stronghold, my safety for many years. I have learned so much and my faith has been nurtured and has grown there. It’s so much more for me than just the place to go on Sunday morning. It’s so much more than the pastor, though Peter is wonderful; so much more than the Jesuits or the Holy Names Sisters who work and teach and worship there; it’s the people: a community of faith that sometimes stumbles or missteps, that is fluid -- members come and go for various reasons. But I can’t escape that -- regardless of who the pastor is, or who the music minister is, or whether or not I like the color they painted the building or how A&E decorated for Easter -- it is like my family, my home. Yes, you can leave your family and home, even for extended periods of time, but you miss them and always hope to return when the time is right. So I need to figure out if the time is right to stay or if there is more for me to find out on the road.

Peter had me read the Annunciation from Luke’s Gospel and spend some quiet time reflecting and listening. Mary was “deeply troubled” when the Angel told her the Lord had greatly blessed her. Isn’t that the way with God’s blessings sometimes. We hope to stay “under God’s radar” so maybe he’ll forget about us and not give us a job we don’t want: like students try to avoid being called on by the teacher when they don’t know the answer. I pray to figure out what my “work” is, what I am called to. I worry about it, fuss about it, like Charlie fussing with his sutures. I need to just “leave it” and give it time “to heal.” It’s back to that waiting again, I guess. So maybe there is more waiting. But maybe I can do that anywhere: Portland, Seattle, the Coast, whereever. From the Mo or from a condo or an apartment or whatever works. Because just a few verses later the Angel Gabriel reminds us that nothing is impossible for God. God can take me where I am, with all my confusion and all my failures and mistakes but good intents, and make something useful from me. Then Peter read Psalm 27: One thing I ask of the Lord; to live in the Lord’s house all my life . . . and to ask for his guidance. . . . Teach me, Lord, what you want me to do and lead me along a safe path. . . . Trust in the Lord; have faith, do not despair.” See why I like my parish and my pastor? No answers, just more questions. But questions are good -- they keep the conversation flowing and bring clarity out of misty, muddled confusion.

TravelinLady