Thea, dislodge the roots of bitterness and leave the remaining earth fallow. After a while has passed, scatter seeds of forgiveness, and nurse them to sapling life. Then I will care for the plants, tending them to maturity. Amen.
I drafted my spiritual autobiography yesterday as part of my process of discernment for the priesthood. At my vicar's recommendation, I limited it to three pages (albeit with some margin modification). When I present my spiritual autobiography to my discernment committee, what will they hear? Will they hear what I've been hearing? Will they hear something more? Will I be surprised? Will I be disappointed? I am curious about the eventual outcome of my discernment process, and I am reminded of the need to remain detached from it. How God speaks to those around me about me is really none of my business. My business is to listen, however difficult it may be. My business is to allow for the possibility that my voice may be speaking words other than God's. My business is to let go of my desires and expectations and wait for the Spirit's planting in my heart to be revealed.
The season of Lent (Sundays excluded) is forty days long, but Easter is fifty days long. Committing to a change of heart is a long process, but allowing oneself to bask in the joy of new life takes even longer. Lent is the season in which I feel most at home. I get my radical need for metanoia, for turning from my sin. I'm not as comfortable allowing myself to soak in joy. It can feel like cheating, especially when I'm not feeling particularly joyous. In what ways am I called to allow joy to be planted in me, right in the midst of my brokenness? In what ways does the flourishing of joy in me bring about the very metanoia I'm convinced I need?