My left hip was barking at me Friday night, the product of pickle ball played earlier that day (and probably also a reminder of the golf round played the day before).
Man, it’s heck to get old.
Muscles and joints and sinews and sciaticas just don’t bounce back the way they used to. And you definitely pay the price for not heeding their tweaks and pleas.
So it’s perhaps not surprising that I didn’t sleep well Friday-into-Saturday. A lot of tossing and turning going on, interrupted by only a few sustained periods of slumber.
But if I’m honest, the orthopedic agony was only partly responsible for my restlessness. I also had Reconciliation on my mind. Sacramental confession, which I had scheduled for Saturday afternoon during the Advent retreat Gerri and I attended this weekend.
I could call all my tossing and turning an “examination of conscience,” I suppose. But it was more like I was battling a demon (one called Pride.) Who wants to admit that he’s a sinner, after all?
On the other hand, it was not lost on me: I had just spent a night wrestling like Jacob in Genesis, suffering with a bad hip, to boot! And what was it that Jacob had earlier discovered? “Truly, the Lord is in this place, but I did not know it.” (Gen 28, 32)
I can be a hard case, though. Sometimes, the Spirit’s promptings can bounce off me like bullets off Superman’s chest. (An apt comparison, perhaps, in that the persona of a fictional superhero closely resembles the prideful mask I usually prefer for the world to see.)
So it was…that the Spirit then led me into the labyrinth early Saturday afternoon at the Marianist Retreat Center.
A decidedly crooked path, encountered on the eve of the Second Sunday of Advent, when we are reminded by Scripture not once, but twice, to “make straight the way of the Lord…”
And there in the labyrinth I happened upon an imperfect stone: mostly smooth and attractive, but with a noticeable fracture too. The very image of my prideful soul, you might say: handsome and unblemished on the outside, in need of healing on the inside.
So long story short, I kept my appointment for receiving the sacrament. It was a deep blessing, of course—as I knew from experience that it would be.
Still I wondered, in retrospect, why it had been such a struggle to drag my butt in there? God had grace upon grace to pour out on me…as God kept reminding me, again and again. Who was I to refuse such an offer?
I’m sharing my story in part because I want to invite you to enjoy this very same grace this Advent.
I’ll even make it easy for you, if you live in Manchester (or somewhere near). Our parish is hosting a Reconciliation service this Wednesday evening, December 13. I’ll be offering a brief reflection at 7:00 PM, and we’ll have several confessors on hand to provide the sacrament itself.
So how about penciling that in on your calendar? Write it down.
Then…come feel the healing grace rush over you on Wednesday evening!
Here’s where to look for more information:
https://www.stjoemanchester.org/upcoming-events
O Wisdom,
Lord and Ruler,
Root of Jesse,
Key of David,
Rising Sun,
King of the Nations,
Emmanuel.
Come, Lord Jesus!
Let us remember that we are in the presence of the Holy & Merciful One.
IHS
With Us Still 