This past Sunday as I was leaving the parish hall, I came up to Wanda while she was washing up after the ice cream social and lunch and talking to someone (as usual). I interupted (as usual) as I asked her to hold out her hand. I placed in her hand from my mine my invisible faith and told her, "Here is my faith, I am giving it to you for safe-keeping. Please hold it close to you and protect it for me while I cannot. You'll know when you can give it back to me."
I have learned that sometimes our brothers and sisters in Christ, must keep faith for another whose trials and tribulations are so overwhelming they threaten to swamp someone's faith. In better days I have prayed for others going through grief, sorrow and trouble. Now, for several months, for nearly two years, other people have been praying for us. If I judge by my latest circumstances, which is my current state of mind, it would seem that so many prayers for us have gone unanswered, or worse yet, been given an unloving NO. When you are drowning in a sea of bitter tears, it's so easy to let go and no longer believe that there is even Someone to hear all those prayers.
In better days, I would know that those prayers are answered in the person of Wanda, my anam cara, who holds my hand on a Sunday morning while I weep more bitter tears. She listens and lets me say all the horrible, black things about my life and even God, and gives me a hug. She promises not to be like one of Job's friends and try to explain why all of these horrible things have been happening in my life. There is no explanation and she agrees that they are horrible, but the few things that she does say are worth chewing on. One of them is that I am in the crucible, which is a common metaphor for the Christian life. It reminds me of a portion of a favorite hymn.
...the flame shall not harm thee; I only design thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine. The problem is from the gold's point of view, being in the crucible is very painful. There is even a point in time that the gold must feel disintegrated. I am at such a point. Mercifully, my faith is in Wanda's safe keeping.
Here is my note of thank you to her.
Just wanted to drop you a note and say thank you for being my friend and a sister in Christ. I also wanted to share a couple of things with you that I think you might appreciate, which both happen on Sunday after church.
The second one first. Sunday evening I caught a portion of the movie "The Return of the King".
It was leading up to the climax of the saga, the final ascent on Mount Doom. Sam looks at his dear friend Frodo, who is collapsed in a bloody, burdened and wounded heap, after Gollum has attacked him for the next to the last time. Frodo knows what he must do, but his strength and will are spent. Sam tells his friend: "I cannot carry It, but I can carry you." and he grabs Frodo and slings him over his shoulders and the two make that final assent together. At this juncture in time, for me you are Sam to my Frodo. You are carrying me while I must bear this burden and I know that I am safe in entrusting my "faith" to you to hold for me.
The first incident happened on the drive back. I was looking at the clouds and the sky and I felt the Lord speak to me in my spirit. He told me that's it's okay to beat my fists against Him because He's big enough to take it. Then He promised me that He wouldn't let go of me, but hold me all the closer while I was so hurt and angry, yet not too close so that I would be free enough to beat my fists against Him. Now when I start to slip into despair I see myself as a child sitting on Jesus' lap beating my little fists against His big, strong chest. And then, I fall into it and cry, while He puts His arms around me and rocks me tenderly.
May God bless you and keep you, as you have blessed and kept me.
