I have been relinquished of the daily pressures and deadlines that are integral to everyday life for most everyone. That is not lost on me. I am eternally grateful for the relief I have been given, so that I may navigate my journey.
Leo fell several times and severely injured his leg. He had a metal rod implanted in his leg. Since his surgery in mid-March, he has used one crutch to walk. I feel closer to Leo than I did before his fall, and surgery.
On Sunday, someone behind me commented that he was still walking gingerly. He meant no malice. I said nothing.
Yet, I at a very deep level, I hoped that he could have been awakened…jolted…into the vital reality so clearly before him.
We are called to bring our imperfections into our walk….our journey….toward perfection….a perfection that is far from our own making, however repulsive that seems to our mental faculties--our reasoning self.
Do we?
We are not called to exhibit deliberate foibles to the public square. We are not called to project with a megaphone for all to hear our foibles, so that we may be credited for being “imperfect.”
We are called to listen. We are called to bring a keen ear to our lives--to our foibles. We need to resist nothing other than to give alms, to do acts of penance to avoid facing…re-forming our imperfections.
As it is, we try to time human healing, when whatever life force imperfects us. We try to run toward the safety of convenience--a convenient life lived on our human deadlines--at our human pace.
On Sunday, I felt betrayed by my brace that I could not walk perfectly at my own pace. I thought I saw tears in Leo’s eyes as he broke the bread. Whether he did have tears in his eyes is unlikely--almost irrelevant. The sense of betrayal at that moment brought me to tears.
Quick. Find a tissue.
God forbid someone see me vulnerable at the moment of a revered offering. Yet, it was the breaking of the Bread, after all.
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