Have you walked on water lately? Has He called you out of the safety of the boat, much to the horror of your friends and family?
Occasionally, Our Lord devises for us an experience that will dramatically shape our faith life. He allows upheaval and discomfort for the sake of our learning to rely on Him alone.
My husband and I are getting our feet wet even as I write this piece.
Several weeks after the birth of our sixth child, I went in for a post-partum check-up. I was diagnosed as having Cervical Cancer. The news hit my husband and I as you would expect. It seemed like my world just fell apart. I wanted my husband, the doctor, my friends, somebody to tell me they could control this monster, that I would be cured. But of course, we were all helpless in the face of such news. All except one — the Lord. He alone was not helpless. He alone knew the future. He alone could cure me, if it were His Will to do so.
Instinctively, we turned to the church and delivered our frightening news to our pastor. He administered the Anointing of the Sick and prayed with us. I wanted so badly to beg God for healing, but we were unsure of how such a request could coincide with the words, “Thy Will Be Done.” Father reminded us that even Jesus pled with His Father in the Garden, asking that this cup should pass. Only afterward did He add, “…Thy Will Be Done.” This made sense to us both. After all, Jesus knows our pains, our sufferings. He took them all upon Himself. Surely, if even the Lord of History weakened in the face of Agony, He would understand our frailty in doing so. I must say, I never knew my Savior to be so human before!
Well, the Anointing surely had a calming effect, but how long can that last on one who is so weak, so unfaithful. It surprised me to fall apart again and again over the next few days. For the first time in my life, I needed to be carried 100 percent. And although I know God answered every prayer, I was scared to death of Him. It was days before I could say “Thy Will Be Done” at the end of the Lord's Prayer. Indeed, I cannot truthfully say that it comes easily even now. How could I fear One Whom I professed to love so much? I found myself saying, “Lord, I truly want to bend to Your Will for me, but I am so afraid of you, of what you might ask of me.” My earthly rock, my husband, told me again and again, “He will never ask more of us than we can give.” The children lovingly offered up rosaries and chaplet, boldly pleading for Mommy's health. But daily I would wilt in the face of my imagination. In my prayer time, I saw an image of myself as a scared little lamb; my Savior holding out His hand, coaxing me along until I would find myself wrapped in his strong arms. “Little Lamb,” he was saying, “Come to me. Don't you know I won't hurt you?”
I was rediscovering a prayer life that had long since been replaced by a busy, eight-person household. Looking through my old Bible at the Psalms, I discovered notes made by a real prayer warrior, one who was not feeling so comfortable with the battle at hand. How many times have I wished I could “fit in” a real, daily time of prayer? And yet, here I was, praying sleepless hours away at night, by telephone, with a very precious friend. Here I was, offering up every daily duty, thanking God for reminding me how precious these duties were. Here I was, in spite of my grief and depression, making it to Daily Mass with six kids in tow! Praise God — He has shown me that there is always room for Him in my life. “Redeem and sanctify the time,” I felt He was saying.
Reading about Jesus in the Bible, I saw that “everyone who touched Him was healed.” I know God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, so I regarded His true presence in the Eucharist. “Jesus,” I said as I approached Communion, “You are just as real for me as you were for the woman who reached out and touched your robe. Heal me, Lord.”
I can tell you that the Lord truly spoke to us through His word, each and every day those two weeks. The first week, we were hearing the story of Tobit every day at Mass. It tells a story of a man who fell blind and was eventually healed through the messenger angel, Raphael. How I pled with God to send me Raphael! Then, a friend called and left a message, saying that she felt I should read Psalm 103 and 91. Psalm 91 is the words of the song “and I will raise you up, on Eagle's wings…” a favorite of mine. Psalm 103 speaks of God specifically as “the one who forgives all our sins; who heals all our diseases.” One day, I was trying to remember a verse in the back of my head: I was able to remember the beginning of the verse, and could practically even hear the rhythm of the words. But I could not recall the rest! That very night, a friend called to offer some encouragement. In the course of the conversation, she directed me to Jeremiah 29:11 — “I have plans for you. Plans for good and not for evil. Plans for a future full of hope.” That was it! It was the very verse I had been trying to remember!
Another night, I had been praying with my good friend over the phone. She would let me call her at 4:00 in the morning when I awoke full of worry, unable to sleep. She would read from various scriptures, and we would pray on those thoughts, going from one verse to another. At one point, we were both struck by the appropriateness of the words, and I asked her to repeat them so I could write them down. The verse was Psalm 112:7 — “Blessed is the man whose trust is in God; He will fear no bad report.” These were very comforting words to me, a reminder to trust in God. To my astonishment, this very Psalm was used in the Responsorial that day! My belief that God was speaking directly to me through that verse was thoroughly reinforced. This was no mere coincidence. Never before had I seen God's Word so alive, so directed personally at me! The Creator was at work here; His Will was already unfolding, despite my fear, my unfaithfulness, my frailty.
(Look for the moving conclusion to Caroline's story in tomorrow's Touched by Grace.)
