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.

About Eleanor Rabnett

Oblate Associate
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