Saturday morning I awoke early and sat to reflect and write on another letter of Eugene de Mazenod. But I was restless, unable to sit still and wondered why I was not feeling inspired, not feeling much of anything save for an undefinable ‘wanting’.
I found myself a few times returning to what I had heard and felt listening to the Congress on Charism with the Oblates. There had been such a richness in spirit, in love, during that week. I was a part of a great family and I could feel it. I was nourished and inspired. I wanted more of that.
I was reminded of the richness of visiting Madonna House many years ago – there was always input and new learning, deep and rich spirituality and community (sometimes more than I would really want). I only needed to be there to receive it all. I stop myself with that thought for I hear myself. I was taking. I took and I took. But being in the middle of that richness, discussing and sharing, praying and thinking, being. Yes BEING. With a big B. Being with those I had come to love most dearly.
Yes this was what I was feeling early last Saturday morning. It was not quite the same as “coming down from the mountain” as one does at the end of a retreat, but rather of returning to a bit of a desert. I had felt so alive during the week. At the end of the day to stand with the others who were thousands of miles away from where I am and together we sang the Salve Regina. A gift of immense proportions, that brought all of us together from around the world, we became one in that prayer. So much do I wish to be with those I love even though I know my place is here. To share a meal, to pray together, laugh and play together, to learn and work together. The very heart of where I want to be. To learn, to give, to be a part of. My whole being cries out for it once again. Is this a curse? A weakness perhaps?
That is where I sat on Saturday morning, in a place where I wanted to physically go out and search for that which already my heart was missing. I wondered if it was just me that felt/feels this way so very keenly? There must be others. I imagine there are many of us and so I am not really so very alone. I think that I am just lonely for my God.
It is not that I am not in the right place, but that no matter where I be, with many or few I will always on this earth be lonely for my God. There is no real escape from it. It would seem that the only relief comes when I step out from this time of waiting and wanting, and begin to love. Love – that is the only way this is bearable. To Be and to Love.