On Saturday, I went to Confession, because I had felt like God wanted me to. I can really see why people sometimes call it cleaning house. When my house is a mess, I really dread the work of cleaning it, and usually put it off some. But afterward, everything is so CLEAN, and it's a huge mood-lifter. In the same way, I dread the process of looking at all my sins, feeling guilt and sorrow for them, and confessing them out loud to the priest. But afterward... afterward I'm so light in my spirit, I could float to the clouds. :) (And, like cleaning house, there would probably be less dread if I did it more often.)
Shortly after confession last Saturday, I happened across a comment and I really, really wanted to reply to it. It's a potentially emotional issue, and I tried to be careful to get an approving sense from God first. But, no matter how nicely and lightly I phrased my comment, I felt God leading me to say nothing at all. I just couldn't be fully at peace with posting anything. So I didn't. That's progress from last week. I suspect the strengthening graces of confession had something to do with it.
I had more or less decided that my new habit of having the kids do dishes with me should be something I do even on Sundays. It wasn't really hard to have the kids wash the four plates and four forks after breakfast. I left Adoration in the evening determined that we would wash the big pile of dishes that had accumulated from Ken's cooking various things throughout the day. And then, somehow, from the time I got home, it did not *once* occur to me to do dishes until after the kids had already gotten in bed. Such is life. Maybe next week I'll remember.
On Tuesday, the Jehovah's Witnesses failed to show up for our scheduled 2 pm meeting. Just before 6 pm, two Mormons showed up and scheduled a time with me to come back and talk.
"Foucauld's originality lay in recognizing that it is not necessary to teach others, to cure them, or to improve them; it is only necessary to live among them, sharing the human condition and being present to them in love."This bothered me quite a bit, since I think that teaching people about Christ and the faith is very important. A healing ministry is also very important to me, and I really don't like the suggestion that it's "not necessary". But I felt God sort of gently chide me, telling me to value His saint and his particular mission, even if that mission isn't quite the same path as God has in mind for me.
On Wednesday, I was praying, and an image came to mind. It kept coming back, and I got a very distinct sense that it was for a friend of mine, and a sense of what it meant. I've never had that happen to me before. I've had other people in my Charismatic group get images before - some of them even for me. But I've never gotten one for someone else before. I thought that was very cool.
Since I don't have any more particular stories for this week, I'm going to share one from last week that I didn't get to. There's an older lady at church (M) who I've been in a sort of Bible study with. But that group hasn't met in awhile, due to health concerns of several members. I wanted to see M, but I'm not comfortable with inviting myself over to other people's places, and I knew she wasn't available to come over to my place. On my Charismatic meeting on Monday the 3rd, another lady (T) who has also been in the Bible study with us asked me if I'd seen M recently and then basically said we should go see her, to which I agreed. So T arranged for that, and we went to see M on Wednesday morning. It was great for me to see M, and clearly M was thrilled to have me (and baby Gabe - who is the darling of many at my parish) over, too. Seeing how well it went, I think maybe I should be a little bit more forward about inviting myself over to see people. Especially all my somewhat older friends at the parish, who might be thinking that I wouldn't want to bother with that, when really, I would.