A year ago, almost to the day, on the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I sat in a little church off the main road to nowhere on the Gulf of Mexico, and had a deep conversion.
I’m not one to say the words, “Jesus spoke to me” or “the Holy Spirit prompted me” but rather, I feel a sense of peace and consolation when I believe my actions are reflective of the Lord’s will in my life. It’s taken me a lifetime to get to this place, believe me. If nothing else, St. Teresa’s words below have given me the strength to move forward, instead of looking at the past and the mistakes I’ve made on this journey:
“To reach something good it is very useful to have gone astray, and thus acquire experience.” St. Teresa of Avila
I don’t recommend this route to holiness to everyone. In fact, it’s usually easier to get it right the first time, but St. Teresa was a bit of a screw-up early on, and look at what a badass saint she became, so I’m in good company — saintly company. If that doesn’t give me hope, I don’t know what could.
So last year, I was in the midst of a personal crisis. Not a crisis of faith, but rather, a crisis of vocation, both in terms of employment, and more importantly, as a wife. I had reached that point in mid-life when, I suppose, people have the kind of breakdown that makes them buy Ferraris. Red ones. You know what I mean.
I bought a waterfront piece of property and decided to quit my job.
Wait for it….
Jesus made me do it.
I’d give the hairy eyeball to any one of my friends who came out and made such a wild statement. What? God is telling you to quit your job and drop a load of money you don’t really have on a move to another state? Now? With an ill husband?
I’m telling you, Jesus said do it. So I did. Well, we did. My husband and I.
You see, when we were first married almost 31 years ago, actually, years before we were married, we’d sit under the Banyan trees on the 9th hole of the Coral Gable Country Club golf course and look at the stars and talk about our dreams. I wanted to write a book. He wanted to be a millionaire by age 30 and buy a house on the beach. Neither happened in our 30s. Or our 40s.
In our 50s, it occurred to us that we might want to shit or get off the pot — you know, actually do something about these dreams. I wrote a book.
He took a rather unwanted disability retirement. Time wasn’t on our side.
But that didn’t matter. You see, we have Jesus on our side.
So we decided it was time to make his dream happen. And we started looking for waterfront property. And looking. And looking some more. It wasn’t happening. There’s a difference between taking a risk, pushing the limits of your resources to a risky point, and completely losing your mind. In my experience, Jesus likes a good chuckle every once in awhile and likes to see us lose our minds.
OK. I get it.
Jesus, I trust in you.
Cue this road to nowhere. We went in search of a reasonably priced property we saw online. You’d think we’d know better. The property was a mess. I was a mess. I was a hot mess, folks, and poor John wasn’t about to poor a bucket of ice over my head, though maybe he should have. He certainly had a right to do it given my tantrum, but no. He’s a good guy, and found a church instead. So I could go cool off in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament.
This is why the sacrament of holy matrimony is so important folks. You need three to make a marriage work, but that’s not today’s point. Today’s point is that I was a hot mess, and Jesus had to slap some sense into me.
You see, I didn’t want that property because it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted an open beach to take long walks. I wanted sand between my toes. My husband can’t walk on sand. He needs a boardwalk. I had my dream, and wanted to design his, too. I didn’t see that, but Jesus did. Oh, boy, did he. And he was mad at me for being selfish. It was at that little church that I heard him say to me, yes, heard, in my head and in my heart so there was no mistake, “I gave you your dream. Get out of the way so I can give him his.”
I heard it. Loud and clear. Yes, Lord. Yes.
When I came around the side of the building to get into the waiting car, I saw the For Sale sign behind John. He hadn’t seen it because he was watching out for me. Ha. Ocean front property for sale. Right. There.
A lot happened since then. It has been a year of building, and I don’t just mean a house.
Next week, we move in.
Like this:
Like Loading...
I sat on the raised fireplace hearth this morning and drank my coffee while I nibbled on some madeleines. We packed up the heavy furniture last night, and the only thing left are smaller pieces we can take with us on the back of a pick-up truck. It’s too soon to say goodbye.
The bitter coffee and the sweet cakes pretty much summed up my mood.