Where have you been, young lady?

Sick.

Tired.

Sick and tired.

Physically and mentally, and spiritually and emotionally.

The desert? Nice metaphor. There’s lots of pretty things in the desert, if you know where to look. Small, tiny specks of life in a barren landscape.

I’ve seen them. The wee lizards are especially cute.

One of my issues with St. John of the Cross is that he reiterates how nice and wonderful it will be when you finally get out of the desert— but that won’t happen until you die.

I’m not in a rush to die, thanks St. John, I’ve got some work to do here, first.

It’s really, really, ridiculously feckin’ hard to do the work of God when you feel God is not nearby.

Even though I know that bastard is nearby, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME THAT EASILY, GOD. I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT THIS MINUTE AND ANSWER ME, YOUNG MAN!

(Heh. I just remembered I left some provocative comments on a blog this morning that might bring people who think that kind of backtalk is liable to get your ass handed a lightning bolt. Hi, I’m Mary Sue. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and He’s got some EXPLAINING TO DO.)

Part of my issue is that I’ve been dealing with issues in my past. No, I’m not telling you what they are, although if you’ve been around long enough you might remember a few mentions of them.

I’m not an idiot, I know what goes on the Internet goes out to the world. I’m not ready to show these secret places in my soul to the world. You don’t ask someone with an amputated leg to show off their stump, do you?

My soul’s just as healed, just as wounded.

Reading St. Julian is like Eucerin lotion. Repeated applications speed healing and reduce the itching and pain of my scarred soul. Reading about St. Francis of Assisi is like physical therapy. Putting the Gospel front and center of life and acting the fool in the world to shame the wise stretches the scarred places of my soul and gives me greater flexibility.

And it’s a slow process. Some days are worse than others. Some days I give up too easily.

It’s okay. It’s even allowed.

Failure is allowed.

Say it again.

Failure is allowed. Even expected.

Quitting isn’t.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Where have you been, young lady?

  1. Wise words, and brave ones.

    Every time I’ve felt like quitting, I’ve later looked back and been glad I didn’t.

  2. I agree with Song.

    And I’m with you in the desert.

    Pax, C.

  3. Sorcha

    Amen. I’m always impressed by your wisdom and your ability to draw parallels between the spiritual and the mundane.