I’ve been struggling for a while. Struggling in a way that will be difficult for me to describe. You see, I have not been struggling with belief in Our Lord, but struggling in prayer. It’s not easy for me to write but I cannot be the only one to go through this.
I read the lives of the Saints and I feel . . . sad. And I feel this amazing sense of wonder. And then I feel shame. I cannot do what they have done. It is not within me. It’s not just about their actions, but their love. It is so intense . . . almost tangible.
Prayer for me has always been a struggle. You see, I understand perfectly well, rationally, that love of God and prayer is about doing and not feeling. But I’ve struggled with taking that rational understanding deeper; with understanding it at a lever that goes beyond the rational. I don’t know how to adequately describe what I mean, but I bet most of you have had that moment. That moment where something happens and something that you’ve always known, always understood and could even explain and that one tiny thing occurs and it takes you understanding to a whole new place. A place deeper. I could not find that.
This week, I think I may have gotten there. I’ve still be praying, but pulling back from trying so hard. I always get more from reading the teachings of the Saints than prayer. So, I’ve said short prayers and then turned to my book to continue it. A couple days after trying this, I heard a little voice say, do what you can. Don’t give up. Only give what you can.
We are not all meant to be Roses.
The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not take away the perfume of the little violet or the delightful simplicity of the daisy. If all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty, and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wild flowers.
~ Saint Therese of Lisieux
I am a simple little wild flower and at least right now, that is what God wants me to be.
Now, I can grow.