neither abstract nor random

“You know well enough that Our Lord does not look so much
at the greatness of our actions, nor even at their difficulty,
but at the love with which we do them.”
St. Therese of Lisieux

(a rogue dahlia / Julie Cook / 2022)

Reading the following quote by Cardinal, now saint, Newman I must admit that I
was pieced by his words.
My heart was pricked as my thoughts now raced.

The quote took on more than just mere words once uttered by a now deceased man.
These words were suddenly very pointed and direct—not abstract nor random.

I found myself overwhelmed…
however, I must admit, I find myself rather overwhelmed as of late most days…
both in positive and negative ways…
yet this time the sense of being overwhelmed was different.

For these particular words, on this particular day, left me overwhelmed in a
most welcomed way.

I found myself amazed, awed and greatly humbled by the fact that everything
within my life—
every big and every minute thing…
those intentional and unintentional movements of all my comings and goings…
that of the time being ticked off of my day’s ins and outs,
those of all my years in and years out…
That of my birth, my in between and that of my death…
all seen and long known by One and only One…

Yet “sin excepted”

The sin is mine, not His.

And yet His is still the knowledge…knowledge of even the sin…
Those known and unknown sins, those seen and those unseen sins…
those past, those present and those sins yet to be.

Even our very sins are known.

The actions and reactions…all known.
All seen by the one Omnipotent Creator.

Yet whereas everything is precisely ordained…the sin is not.

However He knows even of our poorer choices…the good and yes, even the bad
long before we choose. Long before we even have the choice.
He knows of those reactions…be they good or be they bad…long before
we even think to act or react.

And even in that most difficult notion of our fallen nature, I find peace.

Peace that He sees what was and that which is just as He knows what will be…
even when we ourselves have neither knowledge nor clue of what we will do
in the next 5 minutes, 5 hours, 5 days, 5 years…

We think we know.
We think we have an inkling of our own comings and goings..
and yet truly, we do not.

But what I do know, and I know with all certainty, is that God will continue
to bring good from bad….inspite of me and that of which I know and do not know.
And it is in that one fact that I find much rest and assurance.

“O my God, you and you alone are all wise and all knowing!
You know, you have determined everything that will happen to us from first to last.
You have ordered things in the wisest way,
and you know what will be my lot year by year until I die.
You know how long I have to live.
You know how I shall die.
You have precisely ordained everything, sin excepted.
Every event of my life is the best for me that it could be,
for it comes from you.
You bring me on year by year, by your wonderful Providence,
from youth to age, with the most perfect wisdom,
and with the most perfect love.”
St. John Henry Cardinal Newman, p. 103

tangible vs intangible

“God, of your goodness, give me yourself;
you are enough for me, and anything less that I could ask for would
not do you full honor.
And if I ask anything that is less,
I shall always lack something, but in you alone I have everything’.”
Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love

Friendship is one of the most tangible things in a world
which offers fewer and fewer supports.
Kenneth Branagh

(an Anglican rosary / Julie Cook / 2021)

One of the greatest conundrums for Christians…
and perhaps that for our Jewish brethren as well,
is that of the tangible vs the intangible.

Merriam-Webster tells us that tangible is defined as:
able to be touched or felt

The opposite of that, intangible, is defined as:
an asset (such as goodwill) that is not corporeal
:an abstract quality or attribute

So it seems as if our conundrum exists between that which can be touched,
felt, held, vs that which is abstract and perhaps more intellectual…
as in something that is not to be touched or held.
Something far and beyond…
as in Omnipotent and of a different realm from our own.

I think we’d all agree that an Omnipotent God tends to exist in the realm
of the intangible.
As in above as well as beyond that of mere mortals.

And as a said mere mortal, that being one who likes to touch, feel
and know that what I cherish is indeed “real”…
the notion of the abstract and intellectual is not easy.
In fact it can downright frustrating.

Personally, I am one who wants, nay needs, to be able to touch, hold and feel.
And in turn I need to be touched, held and felt by others.
That’s how I know something is indeed real and in turn others
know that I am equally real.
That one on one physical connection is so utterly necessary.
It is soothing, comforting and for the lack of a better word, sound.

Yet our faith defiantly implores us to trust.
Trust in the unseen.
Trust in that which is not to be touched, felt or held.
Trust in that which does not readily physically embrace us.
Trust in that which is beyond our grasp and beyond our worldly vision.

Somedays that is not a problem.
Our intellect can make sense of such and we have a bit of transcendence.
Our thoughts can delve beyond both space and time.

Other days, it seems to be a mere impossibility.
A day goes bad.
We feel under the weather.
We feel alone.
We are hurting.

And it is in those moments we need the tangible.
We need to touch and be touched.
To hold and be held.

It is the only link in knowing that we exist and that we matter.

That is why there is many a night I fall asleep holding my
Anglican rosary in my hands.

I have both Catholic and Anglican rosaries–however being raised
in the Anglican communion, I am more comfortable using that type of prayer rope.

Holding such “a prayer rope”, helps me to feel as if I have something that I
can hold in my hand that allows me to feel as if I am holding God’s hand.

The other night had been tough…and so as I readied for bed,
I reached for my rosary.

I knew I was desperately in need of “the tangible”

I eventually turned off the table lamp and laid on my back while
staring upward through the inky black night.
I held on tightly to the rosary.
Reciting an ancient set of prayers for each bead. The beads moved one by one, passing through my tired hand.
This tiny ritual of mine was more of a matter of my imploring, or more like begging, God to please come quickly be by my side.

I imagined that as I prayed holding those beads, I was actually holding the Father’s hand.
Just as a young child, I had reached out my hand to take His hand in mine.

Oddly, when I had finally drifted off to sleep, turning over, I actually loosened
my hold of the rosary.

It was during that brief fitful interim of sleep that I had had an awful dream.
A troubling dream.
One that had me waking short of breath and with actual tears in my eyes.
I felt a sense of rising panic.

My bad dreams have always been terribly vivid.

Immediately I found myself feeling in the covers  for my rosary.

Finding it, I clutched it to my chest. Still feeling shaken, I knew I was holding it so tightly that the beads might just pop off.  But I also knew that in my despair,  I had actually reached out my hand for God’s hand just as He in turn offered
me His hand.
We stayed that way, holding hands, for the remainder of the night.

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love.
Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.
1 John 4:16