Bondage

When we see that word - bondage - it's likely we automatically think of slavery. A stain on any society that kept slaves. And while the word does usually mean being kept in chattel slavery, there is another meaning:

servitude or subjugation to a controlling person or force

It is this lesser-known meaning I've been praying on this past week. Particularly the "force" emphasized.

What could this force be? In the context of my own prayers it represents a spiritual attack on my well-being. I hesitate to say this as I'm not one to go this dramatic within my faith but...

satan

There. I said it.

The evil one. Lucifer. Beelzebub. The Dark Lord. Mephistopheles. The Beast.

So many names for one creature. 

I have come to see, incredibly recently, that I have been under spiritual attack by The Dark Lord. Intent on keeping me servile, it has tied me to the hatred that I bonded to within my own family.

Most everything they did was only for their own benefit. Self-aggrandizement. Charity did not begin at home unless someone could take credit for it. How very - un-Christian. And of course I've already shared what that meant in my family.

Their Christian virtues were irrevocably tied up in hatred. They weren't pro-Christadelphian, they were anti-Catholic (anti any Christian practice really). My mother was anti-<insert ethnicity here>. My father was the same. Equal opportunity bigots.

They hated pretty much anyone who didn't march to their particular drum. And that included people within the family as much as without. Since they weren't very loving, as a child we had no choice but to bond to what they offered.

And so here I am - bonded to their hatred. 

And given a gift without price. An epiphany delivered at Mass last weekend by none other than Holy Mary, Mother of God.

{Now to clarify things for the non-Catholics in the crowd - we do not worship Holy Mary. She is a Saint, not a God-replacement. She is venerated as all Saints are; we pray to her for her intercession on our behalf to Jesus, thru whom we pray to God. That's all. She is very important to the Catholic faith - as she should be to all Christian faiths.}

Back to Holy Mary's gift. In a quiet moment of communal & introspective prayer I found myself praying for my father. For the first time in nearly a decade I spoke his name in prayer in a positive way - and asked for the strength to learn how to forgive him.

Trust me - his sins against his daughter are great indeed. The worst sin a parent can commit on their child. In fact those sins really are among the unforgivable.

And yet, here I am. For the first time in my life recognizing that the kind of forgiveness I need to give him will release me.

Just me. Only me.

In a moment of pure clarity, Holy Mary showed me the chains that tie me to him. The connection that keeps me subjugated to him. To his hate. Literal chains leading to this man who wounded me so deeply I never thought I'd recover from the memories of it.

It was - literally a godsend of coherence in a mind that was anything but.

With this magnificent and quite holy offering, I have finally stepped on a path I haven't really seen for my entire life. The incredible understanding of this kind of forgiveness.

How liberating it will be. Oh yes, Holy Mary showed me that too.

After talking about it endlessly - annoyingly even - my journey in faith has taken on another facet. One that I know will bring me closer to that goal of all goals...

...peace.

Amen.

More Abundance

 

It is the most glorious time of year in New England. That special crisp air that has a tang you smell at no other time. The breezes that shower you with the glorious colors of the changing leaves.

Autumn - is finally here. My favorite season.

It's chilly - even with a 70 degree sun the breeze keeps the air cool. You need a cozy sweatshirt to sit out on the deck.

Which is what I am doing right now. Old sweatpants, a worn out t-shirt that is 3 sizes too big and a soft hooded sweatshirt that is soothing & comforting to wear.

Thanking God with each breath in a silent prayer. For the beauty of a fall day, for the Zinnias that keep blooming, for the Moonflowers that are still curled up tight. For our precious birdies - the ones who are here all year round, who give us comfort & solace on even the rainiest day (which will be tomorrow).

I've been feeling vulnerable this past week. A huge house renovation will be complete in about 10 days. It's been a long 6 weeks of chaos and whole-house uproar. This past week has been brutal at work and completely upended at home. Everyday there is someone in the house working on something. It's wonderful - and unnerving - at the same time.

And while it's all good and the people are lovely - it's left me feeling a bit unsafe in my own home.

So today I sit on our deck, listening to the leaves rustle in the wind, hear the birds chirping and I know deep within my soul that God is keeping watch over me. 

As he always does.

Grounding

My heart is sore. My mind is whirling. Shoulders are hunched up around my ears. It's been a brutal week at work. Crazy busy, demands coming from every side, every corner. Just when I thought I might be catching up to myself - more demands came pouring thru the cracks. The kind of week when I enter the weekend feeling like I've left pieces of myself behind.

Yesterday as my workday wound down I found myself at odds with the world. Feeling like I was walking thru some kind of dystopian world. Everything was off-kilter, as if my feet were on a heaving ship in a whirlwind storm.

Knowing this would wind me up to an inevitable (and likely inappropriate) explosion, I went outside in the sanctuary of my backyard. Communing with nature - listening to my beloved songbirds, inhaling the unique scent of grass warmed by the late summer sun, gazing at the lush gardens and greenery - is a surefire way for me to come back to myself.

Grounding. 

Letting my feet rest in the grass, feeling the sunshine on my body, clearing my head with fresh air. 

And praying. Praying ceaselessly.

Praying until I think God must be tired of hearing from me.

Then - praying some more.

In that space, the Holiest Mother - Mary - sent me the most divine message of love and peace. 

A beautiful Ruby Throated Hummingbird. Not the male you see here but a sweet female. She buzzed around my head, twice. She let me watch her while she sipped the sweet nectar of the abundant flowers around her (and me). In those moments, Holy Mary showed me the way to slow down my frantic psyche, to embrace the solitude of the moment.

And today - as half my house is being torn apart in a long-awaited renovation - my shoulders are not hunched around my ears. My mind is still whirring away but that's more about the happy chaos in the house than anything else.

Prayer. Is powerful. For a few moments my heart was calmed thru a simple conversation with God.