I have come to the conviction that if we live alone, it is our vocation. If we suffer from loneliness, it is our calling, to be carried until God says otherwise, because I firmly believe that in our loneliness, while we are called to be single, we are of far better use to the Kingdom of God than if we were no longer in that state. God calls us to be married, because then we are of far more use to His Kingdom than if we remain single. To constantly chafe at either state, and attempt to escape at whatever cost the barren loneliness one feels as a single person, or to escape what one might feel is a loveless or constrictive marriage, cheats us of the grace God desires to pour out in our lives, and prevents us from using that very struggle and pain for the betterment of the world, and the furtherance of the Kingdom of God.

Henri Nouwen Quotes

I'm having a great evening at home. I finished watching a film about Henri Nouwen which was excellent. I decided to sit down and transcribe a few of the segments, since I found them moving and valuable, and so I thought I'd share them. The first is an excerpt from his writing. The other three are transcripts of interviews. For me, that final paragraph is the most powerful.

• At the core of my faith belongs the conviction that we are the beloved sons and daughters of God. One of the enormous spiritual tasks we have is to claim that and to live a life based on that knowledge, and that’s not very easy. In fact, most of us fail constantly to claim the truth of who we are.

• Loneliness—this is a wound, this is a pain, when you don’t run away from it, but feel it through, and that sort of in the middle of the pain there is some gift hidden. And I more and more in my life have discovered that the gifts of life are often hidden in the places that most hurt.

• I was very, very convinced from the very beginning, that ministry is to lay down your life for your friends. OK? Like Jesus said: being a shepherd is the one who lays down his life for his friend. But laying down your life you have to have first a life to lay down, you know? You have to know who you are, and by laying down your life I don’t’ mean physical martyrdom, I meant your pain, your anguish, your doubts, your confusion. How can you really enter into that and discover there God’s healing grace, and to make that experience, that adventure with God in your own life, as the source of your ministry.

• Conversion is claiming again and again and again the truth of myself. And what is the truth of myself? That I am God’s beloved child, long before I was born, and my father and my mother and my teachers and my church got involved, and I will be God’s beloved child long after I have died. I go from God’s intimate embrace into God’s intimate embrace. God says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love, I’ve love you before you were born. I’ve knitted you together in your mother’s womb, I’ve molded you in the depths of the world, I was there long before any human being was there, and I love you, I love you and I’ve written your name in my hand—you’re safe in the palm of my hand, long before you were born. And I’m sending you into this world for a little time—20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 years—that’s just a little bit—so that you’ll have the chance to say, “I love you too.”

Earthly Comfort

I just finished Elizabeth Elliot's The Mark Of A Man the other night, (during my found-reading time, at three in the morning).  It's fresh enough that many of the lines that struck me as powerful are still rattling around in my noggin.  This afternoon, I decided to pick up C.S. Lewis's Collected Letters, Volume III, and remarkably stumbled upon a phrase that Elliot had quoted of Lewis.  When I read it in The Mark of A Man, I wondered what the source was, and then today in the several thousand pages of Lewis's letters, there it was, right in front of me.  

I figure with that kind of serendipity, it was worth posting on my blog.  It's also been rolling around in my mind as I think about Christianity and belief, and I think it explains a lot why individuals choose to redefine their beliefs in God to accommodate life that is discordant with God's teaching.

"It is quite useless knocking at the door of Heaven for earthly comfort:  it's not the sort of comfort they supply there."

I believe it is easy to distort the promise that Christ made regarding His yoke being easy and His burden light into believing that this should apply to our earthly comfort and satisfaction.  I think much of man's disbelief could be nullified if we clung to the truth of what Lewis wrote in this letter.

We all desire earthly comfort.  God didn't promise to provide that to us.  But He helps us to persevere in the very lack of that comfort, and calls us to come to Him for true comfort, to become like the woman at the well.  Sometimes life is a succession of getting through one day to the next, relying solely on His daily bread to get us through.  I also believe that this is exactly where he wants us:  to realize that we need Him completely and solely.  If lack of earthly comfort, or if by living daily with pain or sorrow, bring us to that realization, then we've been given a gift, albeit a painful one. 

But that, of course, doesn't mean that the voids in our lives that we feel so profoundly are any less palpably lacking.  Thankfully we're just here for a brief time, and one day soon, all we will know is abundant joy.  

(Source:  C.S. Lewis, Collected Letters, Volume III, p. 1102)

A Maskil

Meg's rejection of me has been more painful than I can bear, and it hasn't abated in two years' time. I don't know how I could ever go through that again. I don't know how I could be courageous enough to risk the possibility. I don't know how I could love a woman more than I love Meg or how any other woman could surpass Meg in my affections. As much as I desire it, I can't see anyone replacing her. I know that's foolish, but it's the reality of my heart and because of it, I fear I'll be trudging through life alone for a long time. How could I ever give my affections to another woman when my heart still belongs to Meg, a woman who has no interest in having it?

Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;

my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and my body with grief.
My life is consumed with anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak.
I am bowed down and brought very low;
all day long I go about mourning.
My back is filled with searing pain;
there is no health in my body.
I am feeble and utterly crushed;
I groan in anguish of heart.
All my longings lie open before you, O Lord;
my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart pounds, my strength fails me;
even the light has gone from my eyes.
Turn to me and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart have multiplied;
free me from my anguish.
I wait for you, O Lord;
you will answer, O Lord my God.
O Lord, do not forsake me;
be not far from me, O my God.
Come quickly to help me,
O Lord my Savior.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
To you, O Lord, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy;
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me;
O Lord, be my help.
In you, O Lord, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.
Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
Into your hands I commit my spirit;
redeem me, O Lord, the God of truth.
I will be glad and rejoice in your love,
for you saw my affliciton
and knew the anguish of my soul.

Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.
Be strong and take heart,
all you who hope in the Lord.
The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him,
on those whose hope is in his unfailing love,
to deliver them from death,
and keep them alive in famine.

I wait in hope for the Lord;
he is my help and my shield.
In him my heart rejoices,
for I trust in his holy name.
May your unfailing love rest upon me,
O Lord,
even as I put my hope in you.

A Story of God's Grace

This is a story about a trip to Texas, a computer, a printer, a recital a priest, an overdone steak and a flat screen TV.  It's a story about a bottle of wine, a brother, the sound of children sleeping, a dog named Pearl and a guy named Chad.  This is a story about God's boundless love and grace given in a time of need.

My story begins on Saturday when I bought a new printer.  Ostensibly Macs are "plug and play," but I couldn't get the printer to work.  It was frustrating to say the least, but little did I know that my frustration would be part of the puzzle of God's plan for my life for this past weekend, one of many pieces in a puzzle that fell into place in such a way that I would become keenly aware of God's love for me and that I am never outside of his watchful gaze.

The priest is of course my brother, who called me on Friday with a request to use my Costco membership to help get one of the best deals on the planet for a 50" plasma flat screen TV.  He sent me a link through email, but I didn't have time to order it.  He had hoped that I would order it online, and have it shipped to his house, which I would have been happy to do.  Some questions arose about taking advantage of the additional $150 rebate deal, and if I could do it in his name, so it was decided that I would go to Costco to ask in person on Saturday.  We were hoping to avoid him coming the hour and a half to my hosue.  Meanwhile, I received a text message from Steve, telling me to wait before proceeding further, since he needed to pray about the TV more.  It was a big purchase, and he wanted to make sure that God approved.  Eventually that was resolved, and Steve felt that his house could be a comfortable haven for fellow priests, friends and family.  He felt that it had God's seal of approval.  Little did he or I know how fundamentally important that TV would be for both of us, and that indeed, his purchase of that TV was ordained by God.

When I went to Costco, I found out that if the TV were to be purchased at the store, and if at the same time a contract with DirectTV was established, it would be even more of a savings.  The monkey wrench in the plans was this:  whoever would be using the DirectTV programming needed to be the one present in the store.  I called Steve back, thinking for sure that he would not be able to come, but since his Sunday afternoon and evening were free, we agreed to meet in the late afternoon.

He had commitments in the early afternoon, and I had a recital to play at.  We had planned to meet at 4:45, but the recital I played at started late, and Steve's hospice visitations went long as well.  Our time at Costco was further delayed by crossed paths, Steve filling up a gas station since he thought I would be later than I was, me heading in before him.  All in all, we were late in our schedule, and I was feeling the pressure of time, since I needed to pack for a trip to Texas that I'm on right now with my brass quintet.  It seemed that things were conspiring to make the evening last longer than it should, but we now know that was orchestrated by God.

At Costco, we discovered that the TV was too large to fit in Steve's car.  We decided that the best option was for him to order the TV online and have it shipped to his house.  I didn't see any reason why he needed to do it right away--he could certainly have waited until he got home that evening.  There was no reason for him to come to my house, but since I had already mentioned the printer debacle, and since he's a Mac devotee, he offered to come home and assist me, since I needed to print some things off for my tour.  It is important to realize that I have functioned without a usable printer for well over year--I realize now that it was no accident that I decided to purchase a printer on Saturday.  It was all ordained by God.

After we made the decision about Costco, we headed to Logan's, my favorite steak joint.  We both ordered medium rare, and Steve's steak came back like a hockey puck.  It took forever for our waitress to return for him to ask for a new one, and then quite a long time for the new steak to come back.  Meanwhile, I was feeling the time crunch even more because of my upcoming trip, and the fact that I hadn't packed at all.  It was getting late, but I was enjoying dinner with my brother and I decided that I would be packed when I was packed and just enjoyed the evening.

We finally headed home, much later than I had planned or anticipated.  My goal had been to be on the road to my brother Jim's house by 8:30 or so, and we arrived at my house at around 7:30, two and a half hours after we had met at Costco.  What we did there didn't need to take that long, but it did, and what we both realize now is that Steve was supposed to be at my house at 7:39 last night.

It was at that time that I received a text message on my phone.  There are very few people who text me, and I assumed it was someone from work.  Steve was busy ordering the TV, and I grabbed my phone to see what message had been left for me.  

This is what the message said:

"dis (sic) is Megan...I LOVE CHAD!"

Whoa.

Yikes.

Ouch.

Where did that come from?

I felt like I had been stabbed in the gut.  My body suddenly became hot, I felt pressure in my chest and I was instantly filled with gut wrenching pain.  I was confused and baffled and reeling from such an unexpected incursion into my life.  I tossed the phone to Steve, and asked him to read it.  He was stunned as well.

It felt like a red hot poker being thrust into my heart.  I told Steve that I knew in fact that it wasn't Megan--it wasn't her phone number, and the Megan I know would never do such a thing.  I could only imagine that this guy Chad, presumably the boyfriend of Megan, had somehow, in some bizarre chain of events, found my phone number on Meg's cellphone and decided to do something to the man who used to date his girlfriend.  Steve described it as being perverse and cruel and it was--it hurt like hell.

It didn't take too long for it to dawn on us that all of the events leading up to this moment were brought together because God loves me.  He knew that this moment would be terribly painful for me, and that I wouldn't have the grace to deal with it on my own.  There, in my room sat my brother who hasn't been in my house in four or five months, in my house, with me, at the very moment that this painful text message came into my house.

I was reeling with the shock of it, talking it through with Steve, and soon our talk turned towards suffering.  I have learned about suffering in this year and a half, and especially these past six months, and this is part of my continuing eduction.  As my brother said to me, suffering is an invitation to enter into the suffering of the cross.  I am a better man for Meg's rejection of me.  I have reached a point where I view my loneliness, and the pain of her rejection as gifts from God that allow me to offer all of that up on behalf of Megan.  As I sat there with Steve by my side, what I saw in the midst of the pain of that unwanted text message was an opportunity to enter deeper into service of Meg, to work towards what I care more about than anything in the world:  that Meg would know God's grace and love for her, and that she would be redeemed.  I could honestly say that the pain of that text message from this guy Chad was a severe mercy to me.  I am beginning to feel like Paul, that I can consider it a joy to be able to suffer on behalf of Meg.

In moments of grace, in those clear moments where I have come to firmly believe that any pain I feel of rejection or loneliness can be offered up on behalf of Meg, I have found myself praying, asking God to heap pain and loneliness on me.  I love Meg so, so much, and I want to be the kind of man that would be willing to suffer whatever pain it takes to bring her to Christ.  Yesterday, in a very harsh and bitter way, God answered that prayer.  But what I am left with, in the very heart of that tremendous pain, is a keen awareness of how much God truly loves me.  My brother was there.  My brother was THERE, by my side, in that moment of extreme pain, pain that I'm still feeling today.  My brother was there to come alongside me, to encourage me to choose the path of love, to choose to enter into the suffering, and to embrace it and to offer it up on behalf of Megan.  As he said so clearly, the path of suffering is a choice:  we either choose bitterness or we choose to love.  He was there to help encourage me to choose the latter.

That is my prayer, and I'd ask that those of you who read this would pray that I am courageous enough to choose that path.  Megan is so worthy of a love that would offer up everything to find for her salvation and peace, and I am beginning to feel that offering up all of my hopes and dreams for companionship on behalf of Megan is my vocation right now.  Salvation is a costly thing, and a life spent on behalf of someone's salvation is a life well lived.

In one of my moments of anguish over Meg's rejection of me, I asked God to reveal to me why he hadn't brought me to my wife instead of to Meg.  The answer was quick and clear.  God said to me, "I did this so that you would pray for Meg."  In that moment I wondered if all of those years of singleness, of yearning for that one with whom I would share my life were there to bring me to a relationship with Meg.  Someone who isn't a believer I think would find this all a bit melodramatic, but I think this is how God works.  His ways are not our ways!  I truly believe that my calling right now in life is to pray and suffer on behalf of Meg.  I tell you, my brothers and sisters, I gladly embrace that calling, and pray for me that I can be faithful to it!

I fear I will be lonely a long time, but I am more convinced of this than ever:  every moment of walking into my empty house, or seeing happily married couples, or attending a wedding, or pining simply to have someone to have dinner with--those are all moments I will live through on behalf of Megan.

Little did Chad know that his biting and perverse text message to me was a gift, a cruel thing transformed by the boundless grace of God into a tool more powerful than he can imagine on behalf of the one he purports to love.  It was a eucatastrophe, and all I can say is praise be to God!

Steve and I said our farewells, with many a hug, both of us floored by God's involvement in our lives yesterday.  I was still in pain, but what I will remember more than anything is God's orchestration of our lives that day, and that in his mercy he ordained my brother to be there.  As Steve left, we declared this TV to clearly have God's seal of approval, and blessing, and I look forward even more now to watching this TV!   

I had a lot of packing to do, and I contemplated the day and the text message, baffled and confused at the turn of events that led to the text message being sent.  It's a ripple from a life that is no longer shared with mine, an echo of the woman I love still.  I don't understand what motivated the message, but now I know that it was used by God, and for that I'm thankful.

I looked forward to getting out of the house however, and heading to my brother Jim's place.  He was taking me to the airport this morning, and I looked forward to sleeping under his roof.  I arrived after midnight, and he and his two oldest sons were up.  He had cracked open a bottle of wine and we talked into the wee hours of the morning, talking about the text message, about suffering, about God's will for our lives, and how God transforms things meant for evil into good.  We went to bed far too late, but it was good for my soul to have time like that with another brother.  

I brushed my teeth, and then went upstairs to my nephews' room where I always spend the night.  All three of them were fast asleep, and on my bed lay Pearl, their family's beloved golden retriever.  The ceiling fan was whirring gently in the background, and as I pulled back the covers, Pearl lifted her head and wagged her tail in greeting.  I pushed her over and found the bed warm where she had been lying and gladly snuggled in.  As I listened quietly, I heard the soft regular breathing of my nephew Zach, the occasional cough of little John, and a random snore or two from Josh.  I reached down and patted Pearl who inched ever so slightly forward to meet my hand and I quietly thanked God for my family, and for his grace and love.  I lay awake for a long time, listening to the comforting sounds of my nephews and finally drifted off to sleep.

Words of Promise

My brass quartet and I played for the Chrism Mass yesterday back home. I was particularly struck with the beauty and power of the first reading:

Is 61:1-3a

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me;
He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the lowly,
to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners,
To announce a year of favor from the LORD
and a day of vindication by our God,
to comfort all who mourn;
To place on those who mourn in Zion
a diadem instead of ashes,
To give them oil of gladness in place of mourning,
a glorious mantle instead of a listless spirit.

On this Good Friday, I cling to the promises contained in this passage.

Fair Warning: Depressing Post Ahead

How is it possible that a 40 minute drive can shatter one's life? I'm still feeling the repercussions of my drive last Saturday and for me, that drive brought everything that I've been dealing with over the past five months to the surface again. I had been doing pretty well, but now my life is a churning, roiling cauldron of difficult emotions that I can't seem to control. I'm just along for the ride it seems, and I can only wait until it all settles down again, and after half a week it hasn't subsided at all.

Most of all I suppose I feel the powerful pain of rejection from Meg and all that it entails. I'm filled with doubt about anyone ever loving me again, I feel very undesirable and unappealing and unattractive. I fear that it will be a long time before I find someone. I think back on a letter I read a few months ago that I had written to my future wife, saying that I hope that I would find her soon. I wrote that ten years ago, and sometimes I fear that it could be ten years more.

When I think about that possibility, those words of Edward in Jane Eyre come to mind: I'd rather die than not have a wife. That's not too far from the truth.

But then I think that perhaps the idea of having a wife has gained too much traction in my life. There's something always vying for our affections and perhaps my desire for a wife is too great.

I don't know--all I know is that I don't like this lonely life, and I hope and pray that God would bring a companion to my life soon. But today, I am in a point of despair where I can't imagine who that woman might be, and that no woman who I desire will ever desire me. Meg dating me feels like an aberration. I know others would argue the point, but it's how I feel and based on any of my past romantic pursuits, that is born out. I'm no alpha male--it seems I'm the guy who women view as nothing more than the scraps.

That about sums up how I feel about myself.

Elisabeth Elliot, IV

I am thinking today of two friends who have lost a loved one--one, the grandmother of her children and another an expected child, full of hope and possibility. I have found great comfort in the writings of Elisabeth Elliot, and last night I read these words which I found comforting. I urge you to read my friend Sherry's account of the funeral of her mother-in-law. It's beautiful, painful and full of hope all at the same time. God's people have hope!

The place where we must meet Him today is the cross where the Lord of the Universe dealt finally with death. It is no vague and silly optimism we speak of, no false mysticism, but a bowing in humble repentance and faith at the foot of that cross. We must be crucified with Christ. That is the beginning of the new life--the deathknell and the birthpeal ringing at the same time.

The resurrection happened. We believe it. We bank all our hopes on it. Jesus is alive. And yet...and yet we sorrow. There is no incongruity between the human tears and the pure joy of the presence of Christ--He wept human tears too. Nor is there sin in grieving, provided we do not give way to it and begin to pity ourselves. It is still appointed unto man once to die, and those who are left must grieve, yet not as those without hope. Resurrection is a fact. There would be no Easter and no basis for Christian faith without it. Hence there is no situation so hopeless, no horizon so black, that God cannot there "find His glory."

Crown Him the Son of God
Before the worlds began,
And ye who tread where He hath trod,
Crown Him the Son of man;
who every grief hath known
that wrings the human breast,
And takes and bears them for His own,
that all in Him may rest.

--Matthew Bridges

From Elisabeth Elliot's A Path Through Suffering, pp. 128-129.

Another Poem

The Well of Grief

Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief

turning down to its black water
to the place that we can not breathe

will never know
the source from which we drink
the secret water cold and clear

nor find in the darkness
the small gold coins
thrown by those who wished for something else

David Whyte

For Me, For Sherry, For Torey

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

In these difficult and trying days of heartbreak I am discovering great solace in poetry. I usually don't read poetry but I find a need for words that resonate with the place where my heart and soul reside right now. I find that I'm hungry to find words more eloquent than my own to speak aloud the feelings and thoughts running through my heart and mind nearly every moment of the day.

This poem of Wendell Berry spoke to the very deepest part of me. Yesterday was a tough day and at one point in the afternoon I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling with a keen awareness that all I could do at that very moment was stare at the ceiling. I had no energy or will to do anything but that, and I realized that was OK. I thought about what I had to do today and I couldn't imagine facing it. What came immediately to mind was Christ's admonition to not worry about tomorrow--at that point, I simply couldn't think about tomorrow or the next day. Surprisingly I found immense freedom in that awareness and I was able to let go and simply live in that moment and realize that God's grace was sufficient for that moment and that there would be grace for the next day and the day after that.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

I tax my life far too frequently with the forethought of grief and with concerns stemming from a feeling of despair. How easy that is for me right now, to think that they'll never be another woman like Meg in my life, or that this ache in my heart will never go away. But then I'm reminded of the words of Julian of Norwich:

All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.

Most comforting of all, the words of Christ:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34).

I cling to these words with my life.

Man, it was a rough one today--the roughest since the day I said goodbye to Meg. Had to leave suddenly from my family, without saying goodbye, since I was such a wreck. I started tearing up around my nephews, and didn't want to make a scene in front of them or my nieces.

Since I believe what Peter Kreeft says when he says that we can offer up suffering to help win eternal joy for those we love, I just have to hope that some work got done on Meg's behalf today.

Thoughts On a Dreary Saturday Night

People ask me how I'm doing lately. I'm never really sure what to tell them--should I be honest with them? Do I cover it over for the sake of social decorum?

The truth is, I'm doing terribly. I'm in mud and quicksand and feel like everything I do to try to extricate myself from the morass just causes me to be sucked in deeper. I have no energy for anything--I take no delight in anything and joy is completely absent from my life. I take that back: I had one moment of joy this week, on stage, while playing Sibelius's Fifth Symphony. Apparently music can enter the cold, dark place that is my soul right now. Because of Sibelius, I had about a minute of sunshine during the dress rehearsal. Hopefully it will repeat tonight during our concert. It's glorious music, written by a chronic Scandinavian drunk. Hope in the face of hopelessness from a fellow depressed Finn.

It's amazing that someone has the power to impact my life so much. Better to have loved and lost, I know, but it's hard at this moment to remember the times of joy that we had. And when I do, it just adds to the pain of losing her. I can understand the appeal that Buddhism has for people who've suffered great pain: eliminate pain and suffering by squelching desire. Of course it's absurd, but it is tempting in the moments I find myself of late to want to never risk like I did with Meg again. Squelching desire and emotions--that is the safe choice, the coward's choice. I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis in Shadowlands again:

"Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore: only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I've been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal."

I pray that I can view the pain now as part of the happiness then. But of course that's the case with death; with a relationship, if things work out, the joy then is compounded into even more joy now. In this case, my loss is a loss permeated with rejection. It's hard to think of the joy then, without inducing heart rending pain now, a pain that tempts one to never risk feeling such pain ever again. I suppose I'll be healed from this pain when I indeed am willing to risk loving again.

That could be a very, very long time.

I sometimes wonder if Meg could possibly fathom the impact she has had on me.

Wow.

Stormy Weather

It would seem that I'm going through my Dark Night. I'm sure it's one of many, but it will take grief of a magnitude exponentially greater than what I'm feeling right now to top this. I'm raw, completely undone and frayed around the edges. I started to cry at work today when talking to a friend about questioning whether or not I could serve on our negotiation committee because of my current state, and almost cried again during rehearsal of Die Fledermaus by Strauss, a joyful piece of music if there ever was one.

I'm usually not so easily emotional and usually am completely composed. People are beginning to notice that I'm not my usual bubbly self. This grief at losing Meg is really taking it's toll on me, and it seems that there has been renewed vigor in the gut-wrenching department in the past few days. I understand that the tide of grief ebbs and flows, but you really notice the tides when your safely on shore. Right now, I feel as if I'm in the gully of a 30 foot wave and can't see the horizon or any sign of safe harbor--all I see are storm clouds, all I feel is hail raining down on my heart.

Life Stuff

It was a beautiful day here, sunny and very warm, rare for this time of year. It was fantastic, but of course as is usually the case on beautiful Sundays, I was working. If you ever want to schedule an event on a Sunday, and you need good weather, check with me--if I'm working, you're guaranteed to have a nice day. It actually wasn't so bad for me though, since in the middle of the performance I had about 50 minutes off, so I left the pit and went for a walk outside along the river. It felt like a July day, and everywhere you looked people were out and about, walking their dogs, strolling with their family, riding some skateboards or going for a bike ride. We all know this is the calm before the storm and that nice weather like this needs to be taken advantage of.

For me though, everywhere I looked I saw couples out walking together, hand in hand, enjoying each other's company. That's all I seem to see these days. Whenever I go to church, I always seem to sit behind some happy couples, where the woman's arm is always rubbing the back of her boyfriend, where they'll whisper things to each other throughout the service, or they'll be holding hands the whole time. It's very distracting for me, but it seems to be a constant wherever I go.

On the way home today, I had a brief flash of a moment where I had a sense that someone was waiting for me at home, and I was happy. Of course it was some bizarre mirage stirred up by my subconscious desire for someone to be there and showed me in a very poignant way how much I long for someone to be there, waiting for me. It's awful to come home to an empty house.

I then headed to a difficult meeting with our negotiating committee, which I've been elected to. It entailed me confronting a colleague about some things which caused me serious concern, and it was awkward, uncomfortable and very stressful. Driving away, I just wanted someone I could talk to about it with, and to be able to debrief about it with someone. I'm on my own though, and just have to deal with it. I so envy the married.

Following the meeting, I went over to some colleagues from work for dinner. I had helped them out quite a bit earlier in the year with some things and they wanted to show me their appreciation by cooking dinner for me. As I sat there chatting with them and having dinner, I found myself longing to have someone there by my side too, to have a wife who would join me for such things. As the two of them chatted, invariably things came up that involved them doing things together, or making decisions together. They relayed how they've been establishing traditions for Thanksgiving that are becoming important to them as a couple, traditions that they want to create for their children, when they have them. The more I heard them talk, the more the empty chair beside me became a crushing void that weighed heavily on my heart and could not be ignored.

If you're married, don't ever, ever take your spouse for granted. The next time you see them, hug them, kiss them, and tell them how much better your life is with them, and that you thank God for them. Do it.

Tides

Grief ebbs and flows. Yesterday was a rough day for me, but the days prior were not so bad, though it's clear to me that every day finds me in a state of mourning the loss of Meg. My grief pales in magnitude to the loss of a colleague of mine whose child was stillborn last week, but yet this grief is mine, the grief that confronts me each day. I'm in that state which so many have been in before me: everywhere I turn, I am reminded of her and how much I love her. Ironically, even the aspects of my life that usually can be counted on to be a diversion for me cause me to think of her. A new copy of Gourmet magazine arrived yesterday and it felt like a life preserver, since I can get lost in the pages of a new food magazine quite easily. But here's the rub: so can Meg, and as I flipped the pages, my only thoughts were of Meg. Surprisingly, those thoughts started out as if we were still together, as I instinctively thought how much Meg would enjoy this or that recipe, or how much fun it would be to prepare this dish for her, and on and on. It hit me hard when I turned the page and saw a section on fun cocktails, something that Meg and I enjoyed experimenting with, which is something that she brought into my life. We would occasionally go buy one new liqueur and then dig up recipes to try and it was immense fun. I'd even have a turn at making up my own--some were hits, and some were duds, but we enjoyed it so much. But that is gone from my life, for good, and the fun that we shared with cooking is gone forever, and it pains me.

Sometimes I am bowled over by the magnitude of what it means to have lost her and I always have a physical reaction of pain deep inside of me. I am not alone in having felt this, but it is my life right now, and it is incredibly hard to deal with. I've decided to live in it, in each moment of loss and sorrow when the knowledge hits me that she will not be in my life. Some people have told me that I need to choose to move on, but I decided recently to not force moving on, or to put my love for Meg to death, willfully. I'm going to continue to love her just as much as I ever did, and let time, and God, lead me forward.

In the meantime, I'm praying for her constantly. That's the only way I can express my love for her now. When I'm praying for her, I sometimes think of one of my favorite lines from A Man for All Seasons, when Sir Thomas More is kneeling before the executioner, attesting his firm belief that he will soon be with God. The executioner asks him if he is sure of that. More responds: "He will not refuse one who is so blithe to come to Him." When I pray for Meg, I pray more fervently than I've ever prayed for anything in my life--I pray for healing, peace, joy and most of all that she would turn her heart towards God. I echo More, and believe that God cannot refuse to answer the heartfelt cries that go up to Him from one who is so blithe to see the one he loves turn her heart towards God. God, may it be so!

Pray for Meg, will you?

Eucatastrophe

It's safe to say that in my 37 years on this earth, these past few weeks have been the most painful moments I've experienced. I'm certain that I will have greater pain in my life than this--I still haven't lost anyone from my immediate family, nor any of my closest friends. But for now, this is the apex, or perhaps more accurately the nadir, and it's been difficult. I suppose some could try to dismiss the intensity of the pain I feel since it's "just a break-up," but it's so much more than that for me, since it's a death of a vision and hope I had that I had found my soul mate after at least 20 years of yearning to find her. Being rejected by a woman who tells you that she doesn't believe she'll find anyone else who will love her more than you compounds the pain even more, accompanied as it is by the unavoidable and relentless, yet unanswerable, "why?" Through this intense pain however, I feel that I am learning lessons about life, and I have seen the hand of God working in my life.

Last Sunday, as I was driving home from my encounter with Meg, I was distraught and in bad shape. As I drove, at one point I said aloud, "man...I'm a real wreck right now." A minute later my brother called, which is certainly no coincidence. In my conversation with my brother, the magnitude of what was going on in my life hit me, along with deep wounds related to dating that stem as far back as my teen age years--all of this came flooding to the surface and I completely lost it. Weeping and wailing like I've never done before, nor knew possible. At that moment, while I was about to hang up with my brother because I was in such bad straits, another phone call came in, which I obviously couldn't answer. On the arc of my life, that moment, the moment when that second call came is without a doubt the most intense moment of pain I have ever felt. I was at rock bottom, and I felt gut wrenching, near puke inducing pain.

I came home, and went straight to bed, even though it was only around 9:30. I slept for about an hour and a half, and awoke at 11:00 or so. I decided to call back on the call that came in which I couldn't answer earlier that night. My friend Bob answered the phone, and I sensed a strain in his usually lighthearted voice. It didn't take long for me to understand why. His wife was going in the next day for an emergency hysterectomy. He wanted to know if I could sit with him while she was in surgery. He explained that he did not handle such things well, and he felt that my presence there would be a calming influence on him and that it would help the time go by. As I sat there, very much still deep in the pain of losing Meg, it was clear what I needed to do, and that God was showing me what we must do with our pain and suffering, and how it helps us enter into the suffering of others. There were connections between our pain, his and mine. That night, I lost the person who I had hoped more than anything would become my soul mate. His pain was linked to a fear that he would lose his soul mate of over 40 years. The timing of his call to me, exactly coinciding with the darkest moment of my life was no coincidence to me either. It was as if God was saying, "I know your pain--live in it, feel it, embrace it fully, and minister to your fellow man through it." It was a powerful moment for me, and perhaps the only way I could ever see this lesson so clearly revealed to me.

I did sit with him the next day, and thankfully his wife is going to be fine. It was good for both of us to be together and he was very grateful. I was still quite raw, but it seemed the only thing to do. Sitting with him, while he was suffering and I was suffering helped me tolerate the sorrow I was feeling myself. I definitely subscribe to the Catholic view of redemptive suffering, suffering willingly embraced and offered up as a sacrifice on behalf of someone else. It's an intriguing proposition that Paul lays out in the following passage: "I find joy in the sufferings I endure for you. In my own flesh I fill up what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of His Body, the Church" (Col. 1:24). I believe that Christ invites us to participate in the redemption of the world through our suffering, and in some small way I saw this sitting with my friend Bob.

As I move forward, the ache in my heart ebbs and flows. I still feel very raw, and I'm still very confused and hurt and there is little joy to be found of late. Clearly through the grace of God, I made a decision that every time I feel a stab of pain, or grieve the loss of a future I had hoped for with all my heart, that I would embrace that pain and sorrow, and offer it up on behalf of Megan. I can't necessarily share Paul's noble words and say that I find joy in the pain, but when I consciously offer that pain up for Meg, I find myself saying, "Bring it on!" I willingly endure it, and find that indeed I can embrace it, and in so doing, I find it is much more tolerable for me, since now it has a purpose. Anytime I think of her, I pray for her, that she would be wooed by the savior of the world, that the Hound of Heaven would doggedly pursue her, and that she would be filled with the love of Christ. I pray for healing for her, and that she would have a life filled with joy. In my more noble moments, I strive to pray that the man she ends up with will cherish and treasure her as much as I had hoped to do. It seems at those moments, I always tend to whisper a desperate prayer that that man be me.

This morning, I awoke with a profound sense of loss and loneliness, coupled with a palpable longing for companionship. I realize this is the season that I am living in right now, and I'm sure I'll feel this again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. I feel as if I've begun a hard journey, climbing into the unknown, since I don't know where the road will take me, or how far I need to journey. I feel like Sam and Frodo traveling in a desolate and barren land. But this is our lot in life often, is it not? I feel that for the first time in my life, I truly know what my cross is, and I will take it up each day and bear it on behalf of Megan. I think that's the only way that I will find my way out of this morass, and the only way I can make sense of the pain I feel, on a nearly constant basis. But oh, dear God! I pray that you heed the deepest desire of my heart, that you would call Megan to yourself. Please may it be so! I pray that you would answer the cry of my heart, and answer it speedily and quickly! Draw her to you, dear God, and heal the wounds of her heart, just as I ask you to do the same for me.