One night on my way home from work, I grabbed my rosary & started praying it... angrily. I was in a foul mood & just wanted to be done with the day. My CD player was on the fritz & there was nothing good on the radio, so I drove in silence for a bit. I don't know what possessed me exactly... The idea of praying appealed to me about as much as cleaning out a septic tank with my bare hands.
The meditations for the day were the Joyful mysteries.... ugh! Those freaking Joyful mysteries. It was almost comical, the contrast between how dark I felt & what the Joyful mysteries are meant to deposit in one's heart. I tried to pause & align myself with each decade. I knew I
really didn't want to say yes to God... but I asked Mary to help me do so. I just wanted to be alone, but I prayed for the desire not to isolate... I didn't want to face the uncertainties I felt about life, but I prayed for help not be afraid. I didn't want to be bothered with fulfilling obligations to God
or man, real or imagined. I just wanted to go home, crawl into bed & sleep. So I asked Mary to help me offer to God only what He requires of me & to help me find Jesus in the midst of it all when I feel like I've altogether lost Him... I had been quickly (& yes, begrudgingly) rambling through the
seemingly endless Our Fathers & Hail Marys, but as I went along, I found myself holding
my beads more tightly, like a tether that kept me from plunging to
my death. It was then that I realized I'd actually started to feel calm...
The road grew dark as the city lights disappeared behind the hills.
Construction signs flashed & herded everyone into one lane.
We slowed to a sluggish 45mph & made our way together past utility
vehicles & an endless line of orange barrels. What should have been 10 minutes home became 25 & I resolved myself to the fact that I didn't have to set the pace that night. I only had to keep moving past the obstacles. Such is faith...