On Speaking Terms
Can you love someone if you don't speak to them?
This is the end of the last week of Lent. Next week is Holy Week, when we enter into the time of the Crucifixion and Resurrection. My Lenten musings are winding down gradually, but I still have so much to learn, to think about, and to talk about.
I have trouble with prayer most of the time. I forget to pray. I forget to even pause and feel thankful, at times. I love Liturgy; I always feel, at the beginning, that it's going to be slow, and, at the end, that it went to quickly. The problem is not that I don't like to pray. Part of the problem is tied up with my bigger issues with communication.
And then there are my parents. I am not really speaking to them. It's been more than a year since I cut off most communication with them. I called my mother this week; her father is very ill. I called my dad often when Uncle Bobby was dying. (This one still hits me very hard; I can hardly type the words without crying.) I still feel very vulnerable to them. I say I love my parents, but can you love someone if you don't speak to them?
My father, when he gets angry, sometimes gets very quiet and won't answer you when you speak to him. This always scared me a lot. How do you reconcile with someone who withdraws from you? Is that how my parents are feeling now?
Is that how God feels, too, when I don't pray? Why don't I pray?
I understand that God is not a pal or even a parent in the sense that my own parents are. Yet I sometimes address him informally, usually at night when I go to sleep, or when I say "Oh, my God." (Italian-American kids, at least those with devout parents, are taught young that using "God" or "Jesus" when cursing is a whole lot worse than saying "fuck" to your parents.) I have a lot of desire to be with God in a quiet way, but trouble quieting myself. (Fr. Mel: "That's what the Jesus Prayer is for!" - but the Jesus Prayer doesn't always quiet me.)
These are my current struggles: reconciling with God and with my parents. Hard work.
This is the end of the last week of Lent. Next week is Holy Week, when we enter into the time of the Crucifixion and Resurrection. My Lenten musings are winding down gradually, but I still have so much to learn, to think about, and to talk about.
I have trouble with prayer most of the time. I forget to pray. I forget to even pause and feel thankful, at times. I love Liturgy; I always feel, at the beginning, that it's going to be slow, and, at the end, that it went to quickly. The problem is not that I don't like to pray. Part of the problem is tied up with my bigger issues with communication.
And then there are my parents. I am not really speaking to them. It's been more than a year since I cut off most communication with them. I called my mother this week; her father is very ill. I called my dad often when Uncle Bobby was dying. (This one still hits me very hard; I can hardly type the words without crying.) I still feel very vulnerable to them. I say I love my parents, but can you love someone if you don't speak to them?
My father, when he gets angry, sometimes gets very quiet and won't answer you when you speak to him. This always scared me a lot. How do you reconcile with someone who withdraws from you? Is that how my parents are feeling now?
Is that how God feels, too, when I don't pray? Why don't I pray?
I understand that God is not a pal or even a parent in the sense that my own parents are. Yet I sometimes address him informally, usually at night when I go to sleep, or when I say "Oh, my God." (Italian-American kids, at least those with devout parents, are taught young that using "God" or "Jesus" when cursing is a whole lot worse than saying "fuck" to your parents.) I have a lot of desire to be with God in a quiet way, but trouble quieting myself. (Fr. Mel: "That's what the Jesus Prayer is for!" - but the Jesus Prayer doesn't always quiet me.)
These are my current struggles: reconciling with God and with my parents. Hard work.