buffeted by imaginary storms

I sometimes catch a picture of myself as I walk through life.  I see a little girl (sort of like the girl in the cartoon "Nancy", clothed in protective raingear--hat, coat, galoshes, umbrella--pushing valiantly through the most horrible of rain and windstorms.  Head down, trudging forward, one hand clutching the umbrella and the other out in front of her to stave off the ferocious wind, she bravely battles onward, a heroic little figure in the storm.  Thing is--it's sunny and lovely outside.  There is no wind.  There is a nice little breeze, perhaps, but she can't feel it, bundled as she is against the perceived threat.

That's me at times:  all dressed up against the storm in my mind.  That was certainly me getting ready for my meeting at church.  All day, I bravely battened down the hatches, refusing to think about the appointment looming ahead.  As the time approached, I got in the car, gritting my teeth against the ordeal to come. I prayed all the way there, steeling myself for whatever might come.

What came was a picture of a smiling priest ushering me into the office, another smiling priest seated at the table.  I thanked them for allowing me this time to discuss my ministry options.  I sat, and ---nothing! They waited for me to begin!  It wasn't their meeting, it was mine!  I told them my concerns about starting a new ministry and then having to leave for the summer.  Nobody questioned my meaning, they simply listened and helped me to find ways to be what I wanted to be.  I left with the agreement that I would come after church on Sunday to find a convenient time to begin a group training for LEM--Lay Eucharistic Minister.  Another dream was coming to pass--a dream of ministry (I'm reminded once again of that morning in my room, hearing the Lord say that he was going to redeem what was lost.)  What was I so afraid of, anyway?

As I drove home, it finally dawned on me.  This was a reversal of an earlier time, an earlier meeting.  So many years ago, I had been called to another meeting at the same church by a different priest.  I had expected to receive understanding and help; instead, I received an ultimatum--one that made me realize that I couldn't stay.  I had not been fearful for no reason.  I had every reason in the world to distrust.  But once again, God had brought his healing hand to my situation.  I now have another memory of another meeting with priests and concerns, but this one is a memory of loving priests caring about my needs and wishing only the best for me.  I know now that I am truly in God's home for me.

Sometimes we need storms, even if they're only in our mind.  They give us understanding and strengthen us for the coming battles.  I am exhausted from worrying about this one; now that it's past, though, I can bask in God's sunshine and thank him for sunny days and answered prayer.  And being, finally, home.