Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply

Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply

Another tiring week, so dissimilar from the final one. At least now I am not sick, and my representative has almost returned. Yesterday I spent the dawn with my wonderful priest friend. He looked better. We had a grand time as always. He liked my soup. When we pray, I look so much peace. We share stories. He listens to my adventures and offers a perspective.

What bothers me about yesterday is that I live he told me something really significant and I can't think what he said. That's because a voice of me was so caught up in his mortality. I wish a miracle. I want him well. All I make is now. And now has to be enough. Tomorrow will get to get charge of itself. I think the dawn I woke up, perhaps two days ago, when I realised that one of my greatest gifts was death. I think that I am called to serve people die. I am called to get people into reconciliation with God. My influence is making beauty out of mortality. The early night at a church coffee house, someone came up to me and hugged me. This was her first night out in public since her husband had passed away. She wanted me to acknowledge that. She was smiling. And so there were other faces that passed by and smiled, or hugged me.and I think the encounters I have had with each one of them and what holy, holy moments they were. It is who I am. A priest. But not a priest. Still a priest.What does this mean? I take a new acquaintance that I love dearly. She got caught in the crossfire on Tuesday night when I decided to make a scene about not being able to be a priest. And the scene I threw was exhausting.and terrifying to me, because I loved this woman and she is a really good Catholic. She held me, looked me in the eye and said. "God put you in the Catholic Church for a reason. Figure it out." And I was actually scared that I would miss her friendship because I showed my true colors. Oh how I want I could let it go. I wish I could grieve it and get on with life. I don't see these strange feelings of missing something that will never happen.and I marvel what it is calling me to face.or what I am hiding from that requires this much energy to conceal from.You know, like the father of a drug addict. She spends all of her energy on praying for her son, trying to convert her son.when God wants her to see what is within her, what needs to mend in her.but this other matter is so distracting.That is how it feels sometimes.So I must now go and beg her to forgive me. She heard words that she did not want to hear. Truly, Madly, DeeplyI wrote a sermon for my preaching class with Zan Holmes using this song. Zan is an amazing African American Methodist preacher that, early in his career, was fired as uninteresting and liberal a little church off of I-30.which he then turned into one of the largest Methodist Churches in the Dallas area. Zan was a man of the highest order. I used this call to prophesy about my kinship with God.and he gave me an A. For me, the God thing has ever been truly, madly deeply.a pure love story. This is a love that will never forget me, never offend me, never be unfaithful, always hold me safe, satisfies my every need. And it manifests itself through the multitude I meet. Because He loved me, I can love them.as they want to be loved.I can maintain on and let go.and it is all good.And I must provide the family now. I'll finish later.Love, Cindy