"Why ME doing THIS?"
Sr. Regine laughed her cute little French laugh over the Skype connection. Even the many miles that separated us didn't keep her from laughing at the absurdity of my question--one that I had asked myself, and her, and God many times. And thats maybe why she laughed (although the language and character barrier that inevitably separates this adorable and inspiring French nun from me, a lost 22-year-old volunteer from America, will never allow me to know for sure).
but-ja-thats maybe why she laughed-and then with all thoughtfulness and sincerity she assured me from the depths of her deeply faith-filled heart--God called you. Its HIM. not me, or Fr. Thierry, or Heart's Home, or even your own desires. It is HIM. He called you to be MARYLOUISE in VIENNA--base your life there on this certitude!
It was as if I had never heard her say it before because I am always so quick to forget as soon as I get tired, anxious, irritated, or simply bored and unmotivated.
Sr. Regine and I were discussing my stay in Vienna, my mission and life here.
After a long while of questioning and contemplating, several discussions with Sr. Regine, Fr. Jacques, and others around and connected to me whose wisdom I trust and experience with Heart's Home well-grounded, plus a two week vacation with my parents and a novena to St. Therese (my heavenly companion through it all)
..........I had requested to extend my stay in Vienna and work with Heart's Home until the first or second week in May.
It wasn't easy--to make this decision. I mean, clarity hasn't really been my strong point over the last 7 months-especially in prayer. Going through the motions has become an unfortunate crutch, and as much as I am ashamed and reluctant to admit it, I could feel my heart drying up a bit. Ok, well not a bit, a lot, and it scared me, I think. I badly needed a refreshing drink from the source of Living Water but even the prayer life was a daily battle.
What had happened? Nothing. Just normal life. Just God teaching me unfathomable lessons. Teaching me my weaknesses, my littleness, my need to be further emptied in order to be fully surrendered and available to Him. Letting me learn the hard way (the only way that ever works with me stubbornness) how to better "suffer with" those to whom I so long to bring the presence of Christ through a simple friendship, my own humble presence.
In fact, as hard as it is, and even harder can be, isn't it beautiful when you get to experience for yourself that essential human longing in deeper way. you feel more human. more desperate. more thirsty. more ready.
But what for? to leave in three months, or to stay for five? Where was the source of living water to be found? Where was he calling me to seek Him?
The solitude. emptiness. and silence of the desert was answering me.
For the past year, I didn't know where God would lead. I didn't know where He was leading. So I just kept on going. living. planning, enjoying. praying. cooking. meeting. watching. trusting.
It became clear in a totally foggy-winding-road-through-the-forest kind of way
Like the clarity that comes to your heart when your head is still very far behind.
It hasn't been enough.
I haven't made it to the cross.
God in his Mercy has taken my by the hand and led me to stand beside and under so many crosses in the past year--those of mothers and wives, left and unloved in both one room apartments and penthouses, those of children living in fear, those of the elderly, abandoned, those of the sick in excruciating physical pain or the pain of feeling like a nuisance, those blistered by the cold of the air or a stranger's cold scorn, those of parents fearing for the safety and lives of their children, or their souls.
I have been allowed to be with many.
but not yet had I reached mine--the one on which Christ hung for me--waiting to tell me what I am dying to hear, and cannot even fathom. Waiting for me to take my permanent place beneath Him and accompany Him until the end.
So in living everyday, yearning to hear, acknowledge, and console the cries of Vienna, I have not yet heard the cry, His cry, for which He called me to Vienna with Heart's Home, with Alina, Mathilde, Fr. Jacques, and Fr. Clemens, to apartment renovations, visits to friend's homes or artist's ateliers, dinner guests, benefit concerts, retreats, prayer nights, the foot of the tabernacle, in order to hear. His cry to me and me alone--His cry that called me into being and gave me a meaning, a vocation to embrace and fulfill.
So I need to keep my heart open to the reality that He presents--and until May I seek to embrace it even more, live it more faithfully and passionately until I make it to His pierced feet, soaking the wood of the cross to which I cling in order to hear the choked cry of what He's been dying to tell me.
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