On Hibernation

As we enter the last few weeks of February (!!!), I reflect on the past month and a half and see my pattern of hibernation.  Emotionally, physically, spiritually.  

With Kev interviewing (and waiting, waiting, still waiting) for jobs and the strain that comes with the process, me directing music at SMC campus ministry while a friend is on maternity leave, two atria to help with and a seriously challenging situation we've been helping friends weather, all of a sudden February is half past.

Right now, I wrap myself in the solitude of a quiet morning cup of coffee watching the sun rise and realize.


It's Sunday morning.


I'm alone.


And I couldn't be happier.

(Kev so generously took the kiddos to 9 am Mass on his own, as I have to help with a 7:15  liturgy).


You, see, I love life.  I love my life.  I love people, interaction, the exhiliration of coming to understand someone and in turn being understood.  I love huge gatherings where the air is pregnant with possibility of laughter, banter and bonding.


But, I thrive on solitude.  A walking paradox, I re-energize both my being around people and retreating into a pocket of quiet and stillness.  Even as a child, when our family would go hiking at Potato Creek on a summer Sunday afternoon, I loved to walk far ahead so that, all by myself, I could soak in the quiet of the moment.  Though far too young to understand the phenomena, I see now it was the Lord calling me unto Himself, to rest in stillness, in Him.

Before you think I'm a walking Hallmark card, I'll have you know that life has not always been easy for me.  In fact, I find that having tasted of deepest sorrow in innumerable forms, my capacity for joy abounds.  Every moment offering transcendent beauty is a reminder, a reprieve from those dark moments steeped in a cloud of unknowing where I do not feel the Lord's presence. 


It is precisely this unknowing, this dark night of the soul, this restlessness which propels me into deeper relationship with God.  Lest the awareness of my own smallness and insignificance fall into a bath of self-hatred (trust me, I flirt with that tendency all the time), my only context of hope is in the arms of the Risen Christ.


This is why I so look forward to Lent, as it is a time where the whole church is called to solemn reflection and edifying purification.  In a culture that values immediate gratification and pleasure without limits, I find great comfort in fostering virtues of patience and self-restraint, perhaps because I need them so heartily.  I revel in the dramatic change from the Lenten fasting, sorrowful Good Friday to Easter, as my own heart knows the rythym of sorrow to healing quite well.

With the dawn of Easter Sunday comes the Risen Christ. Still bearing the marks of His sacrifice, Jesus is hope Incarnate, showing in His very body that all will be well.