If you're Catholic, you heard that phrase from Matthew 28 today, but translated differently - as "but they doubted." The Greek can be translated either way.
I have written before about the gift of being prayed for. About startling mystical experiences. I have told you some of what I have been feeling - but not all - and in the midst of it I have tried to communicate, in a way that I hoped was helpful, rather than self-indulgent, the truth of my sadness and loss, but at the same time my gratitude than in the midst of it I have never felt despair or darkness - and I cannot help but thank God for the grace, grace that works mysteriously through prayer. Prayers from all sorts of people, on earth and beyond.
And slowly but, I think, surely, my faith is deepened and strengthened. It is still a fairly shabby thing, but the words I have said for decades and my conviction of their reality seem to be moving closer together, so that gratitude and a real, authentic love governs my life a bit more every day.
...but some doubted.
Today was a day in which the busy-ness of the trip faded into the background and I returned to an apartment still heavy with an emptiness that is a presence, a four-month anniversary just past and a nine-year anniversary approaching next week.
...but some doubted.
Then this arrived in my emailbox, because it is, I am finding, inevitable that when the doubts threaten, God answers. And God answers mostly through other people and what they so graciously share with me.
I have edited and shaded so the person's identity is protected, but just know this: This is from a person we met face-to-face once, three years ago, when she invited me to speak to a group of which she was a part, and who has for the past year or so been in a place in which news such as ours did not penetrate. In other words, she didn't know that Michael had died until two days ago. This is what she sent me today:
I have written before about the gift of being prayed for. About startling mystical experiences. I have told you some of what I have been feeling - but not all - and in the midst of it I have tried to communicate, in a way that I hoped was helpful, rather than self-indulgent, the truth of my sadness and loss, but at the same time my gratitude than in the midst of it I have never felt despair or darkness - and I cannot help but thank God for the grace, grace that works mysteriously through prayer. Prayers from all sorts of people, on earth and beyond.
And slowly but, I think, surely, my faith is deepened and strengthened. It is still a fairly shabby thing, but the words I have said for decades and my conviction of their reality seem to be moving closer together, so that gratitude and a real, authentic love governs my life a bit more every day.
...but some doubted.
Today was a day in which the busy-ness of the trip faded into the background and I returned to an apartment still heavy with an emptiness that is a presence, a four-month anniversary just past and a nine-year anniversary approaching next week.
...but some doubted.
Then this arrived in my emailbox, because it is, I am finding, inevitable that when the doubts threaten, God answers. And God answers mostly through other people and what they so graciously share with me.
I have edited and shaded so the person's identity is protected, but just know this: This is from a person we met face-to-face once, three years ago, when she invited me to speak to a group of which she was a part, and who has for the past year or so been in a place in which news such as ours did not penetrate. In other words, she didn't know that Michael had died until two days ago. This is what she sent me today:
I think you would like to know this - while I was away, back before Lent, I am not sure when but now I realize it was probably around Michael's death in early February, for some reason your family would come to mind during my prayers.
One image in particular kept popping up - I would remember Michael picking up Michael the Baby while you were giving your talk and I was sitting next to you and Katie on that goofy couch. Like replaying a movie without sound (odd, I know) I just remember "gazing" (so to speak) at all of you gathered. But it was Michael that I remembered most clearly, the focus was always on him picking up Michael the Baby, down to just how his arms moved and the smile he had, a kind of firm but gentle smile of a confident man. I don't know how else to describe it.
I remember thinking how odd it was because of course this was the only time I met him, it has been you that I have been in contact with and I wondered why I was seeing him and not you. This memory happened off and on for at least a week, usually during Mass or during the evening prayer. Whenever I would think of people I would offer up that prayer time for them, assuming that there was some reason they came to mind. (I still do of course!) But I want you to know that I offered many prayers for you all then, and I firmly believe that God allowed me, asked me even, to pray for you all in your time of need, though He did not see fit to tell me why until now.
What a gift, yes? God's gift to us through her. Her gift to me - and you, perhaps - in sharing it.
I am more and more sure that the gift of Presence - knowing, loving and communicating - because it is the Word - is all around us. Directly and indirectly, in our own solitude, through others, Love speaks.
No doubt.
I am more and more sure that the gift of Presence - knowing, loving and communicating - because it is the Word - is all around us. Directly and indirectly, in our own solitude, through others, Love speaks.
No doubt.
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