URBAN SHADE: The Stillness of Trust

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People are asking how I am now. Very well is the honest answer, though after some very bright and energetic days last week, I find myself flagging a bit, somewhat under par. It wasn’t so noticeable until I had to stand up in public and perform as it were for the first time since the procedure. Then it’s clear that I am rusty and have to dig deep.

For the Feast of the Sacred Heart I took three short assemblies at the school, a great way of connecting with all the children and if I wasn’t on top of my game, they were wonderful. They don’t ask for much and give so generously. Their capacity for silence is astonishing. They asked about my heart and I thanked them for the fabulous video they sent me wishing me to get well, praying for me. We talked about all that’s in the Heart of Jesus, love and kindness being the most mentioned and some spoke of happiness or joy. They were amused when I said that God is so happy that He dances for joy. The idea seemed funny and made them laugh but it’s true because the Bible tells us so. Perhaps their lives are generally happy enough and don’t yet need to take on board that God is happy.

My second outing is in Barking where I’ve come to help out for two weekends. Father Paul has been alone here since Father John died four months ago now. The rest of us in the community help out when we can and I can do so now because Father Tony has stepped into Hastings for this week, as he did the first week after my procedure.  As Father Derry did last week, coming over from Ireland. We Pallottines are very thin on the ground  - seven of us from the "Irish Province" and two from India.

It’s a humble and sobering thing to be celebrating Mass as a visitor in a church where there isn’t an established relationship between me and the congregation. It’s especially humbling when the man serving Mass leaves the sanctuary during the homily and the eyes of every person in the church follow him, escorting him all the way out the door until he disappears from view into the sacristy. I’ve lost them completely but still I plod on in the heat just in case one person might need to hear what I’m saying. But I have my doubts.

This is a lovely parish. Lovely people who love their own priest. They have a familiarity and belong to each other in a way that I don’t. Makes me appreciate more the relationship I have with my community in Hastings. We have come to know each other, have a feeling for each other in a way that is beyond words.

One thing Barking does have, that Hastings doesn’t, is a private garden. Here I sit on the hottest of days under the shade of a tree and it allows me to feel an aspect of today’s Gospel – the shade that is given to the birds of the air. The shade that God is providing for me in a time of recovery. A garden is very restful, a paradise in the city, stillness in the midst of urban noise.

I remember a dry season of red dust in Galapo, Tanzania. The aridity of soul that was upon me, the barren thing that I had become, the non-importance of who I was, how peripheral. And how I went walking aimlessly, stumbling upon a small valley that I never knew was there. A river flowed generously through it, cascading over rocks, with trees flourishing there like the prophecy of Jeremiah. All of this was such a surprising relief, providing respite, shade and refreshment while the dry season continued on its relentless way. I would have to return to that season but I could also return from time to time to this river. As with the physical, so with the spiritual. The time spent there makes the onward journey possible.

There is a pilgrimage that I must complete, a purpose to be fulfilled, though I do not know exactly what it is. As my late friend Father Bill Hanly used to pray every day, “dear God I do not know where I am going, I do not see the road ahead" – the prayer of Thomas Merton. But God knows.  Jesus knows exactly what He is going to do (John 6:6). And I am eager for its completion.

In the stillness there is restlessness, a stillness that is loathe to linger longer than is necessary in any time or place or circumstance.

The stillness of the pilgrim ever moving forward

The stillness of battle urged by Moses

The stillness of the contemplative dancer

The stillness of trust in God

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30 Days

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THAT SACRED WRITING OF GOD (An Experience of Lent)

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Affectation

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Carmel: Most Beautiful of Women

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It was a warm blustery  Sunday evening o n Hastings pier... Waiting for news of Carmel Waiting for Carmel to leave Not that I wanted her to go I would like her to stay on and on We all would But she had to go It was her time Her time was coming And God was calling And I was five hundred miles Away She is my aunt -in-law But really my aunt In affection Sixty odd years  of it When I was a boy of eight or so She came to Raford from Birmingham Young wife and mother Josie's wife Marian's mother Josie was my uncle Raford is the Carty homestead It became Carmel's home Over the past 36 years It has been hers Since Josie died She came to embody Raford She became Raford For me For my family To the eight-year-old boy She was bright, beautiful and warm Very caring We were down by the big metal gate Closing it And my heel got caught in it I cried more loudly than was necessary And Carmel brought me in, took off my white ankle socks, bathed and bandag
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Running In My Head

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