Tuesday, March 10, 2009


I had the most wonderful time today. After, of course, a severely and exhaustingly dramatic episode in dealing with my past, I sought solace in adoration. Actually, I was pretty surprised that I was able to do it as I don't have a church nearby with perpetual Adoration. In the end I was granted access to the tabernacle for my university's Catholic Student Association. Which was so much more wonderful that I expected. Hopefully it will be the first of many such trips late at night when no one else is around. I absolutely adore having the opportunity to sit face-to-face with God himself and just release everything.

That was one of the revelations that I had tonight. That I can be totally and completely honest with God. Granted, I already knew like most good little Catholic kids that God knows everything that you do and He knows your true heart better than you do. But tonight it occured to me that I could, through the magnificence of His true Presence, be honest with myself. How often do we lie to ourselves in prayer, hoping that if we can convince ourselves that we are holy or righteous, or pious enough that we can somehow convince God? I'm scared that maybe I've done that a lot throughout my life.

But tonight I was able to give myself to God in a way that I never have before. I felt desperate. I felt unworthy, but wrenched with a violent and desperate longing to be God's. I don't care how-- I want to be His in whatever way He wants me most. But I realized that I would be most happy if I could be somehow completely emptied of myself and turned into an empty vessel for God. As St. Francis' prayer reads "I long to be an instrument of Your peace..." I wished and prayed that I could have God's heart instead of my own. My heart simply isn't strong enough. It isn't good enough, or big enough, or brave enough to love Him the way that He deserves to be loved. How horrible it is that we cannot give God even the tiniest fraction of the love He has for us in return? I wish that could burst from the seams to return to God the love that He has given me. I hate that I'm so limited. Why would He create us in such a way, knowing that we would never, ever be able to return His perfect love??? I think that there's some kind of rational answer... the the extent that mysteries count as rational, anyway. Let me know if you have any ideas.

Question: Has anyone else ever been overcome by a violent fit of the giggles in Adoration? Sometimes I wonder if this is inappropriate, even though it is a joyful noise, because my veil sometimes falls off during the fit. Not that it's wrong because it falls off but rather that perhaps the falling is a sign of something deeper? I have a very difficult time controlling my emotions in front of the Blessed Sacrament. I'm sure that I'm not the only one though. Help?

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