Joys of his appearing
Tuesday in the Octave of Easter, April 3, 2018
Jesus said to Mary Magdalene, “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”
– From John 20
I know a man who worked hard in winter and in summer. One day he was fixing fence while his cows munched grass nearby. It was hot and nearly time for lunch. He whistled a happy tune.
Then in a flash he shivered and fell down sitting on the ground. His fingers stiffened, he dropped his pliers and stared straight ahead. His skin prickled in the summer air.
Moses would have said, “I must step aside and see this amazing sight.” Mary would have said, “Rabboni!” My friend said nothing, but eventually he went inside and ate lunch with his God-fearing wife. He is a man of few words, and he rarely said anything to anyone about this moment with God. But he was sure of it. He didn’t go to church before or much after this day, but he was sure of it. God visited him in the field.
In spite of all my shortcomings, God comes to me too. Of course I am mostly unawares, but sometimes I can’t help but know. We are all part of God’s family of mankind. As Jesus said so clearly, we all are going to “my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” And in the meantime, quite often actually, he comes to us.
Yesterday morning the trees shone in the sunlight, covered with sheens of crystals and ice. Our Easter snow blanketed everything dazzling white; even in April, this winter’s beauty came today. Robins might have been fooled, but they still flew, looking for worms, their red breasts shining and fat. By the end of the day the snow melted, the weather warmed, and they had found many worms, I’m sure.
In the hospital, sitting with my mom, we watched a black man help a white woman with her coat. She in a wheelchair, he driving her cab, they sat and talked while she waited for her blood draw. Of course they did not know each other. But God knew both of them, and you could feel their kinship in their words. Their faith filled the room.
As the Cubs were losing today, I switched the radio to an audio Winnie-the-Pooh. Silly old bear. In almost every story, an epiphany for someone. Maybe mostly me today. God felt near. I switched again to an audio version of the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. A priest and a group of nuns responded to each other with chant, with repetitions, with prayer.
Driving home, the moments passed too quickly and there I was, sitting in the car, silent in the driveway, fallen flat beside the unfixed fence, on my knees with Mary, sharing stories with a cab driver, taking off my shoes, too, beside the burning bush, all the while as Jesus says, “I have not yet descended to our Father.”
There was no hurry to go inside.
In your great mercy, Lord, you let me see inside myself, let me see inside my life, let me see inside our amazing world with each instant glimpse of grandeur. You, God, rise up to meet us all, not waiting for us to come to you. But, Lord, come to you we will. And when we do, we will recognize you, our friend who walks with us and talks with us and tells us you are our friend.
http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2018/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1702
