All of You

As I’m writing this, snow is falling, and I’m bundled up with a nice cup of coffee with a dash of cream. There is a serious snow globe effect going on and I’m loving every second of it.

Moments like this tend to draw out slower, deeper reflections, especially as I’m preparing for chemo to start next week. It’s the kind of writing that I’m planning to reserve for paying subscribers going forward. But this one will be free.

This snow brings me right back to our life in NY when, for days, it would look like we were living inside a snow globe, and we’d see the snow pile higher and higher before venturing out.

When I was a younger mom, living in the snowy tundra that is Buffalo, NY I would wake up once a week at 2 am to don a coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and boots. In the biting cold, I’d trudge to our car, turn it on, and wait for it to warm a little, then, putting on the headlights, I’d head off to my destination for that day.

Jesus.

I had been Catholic for maybe 5 years at this time, and still had so much to learn (still do) yet I had one thing figured out.

My need for Jesus.

As I pulled into the dimly lit parking lot of the church and pressed the buttons on the code-locked door to the chapel, I always felt this peace wash over me.

Stepping into this little chapel, I relieved the adorer sitting there, so they could go home, and took up my watch. We were a blessed parish to have perpetual adoration. And they took seriously the need for someone to be present with the Eucharist each hour. So I would sit down, take off my layers, and pray. It was so quiet, and warm. A red light, a candle flickering in a red vase, was near the tabernacle, the host exposed in brilliant arrays of gold and light. I had come to be with Jesus — no agenda.

Rarely did I manage to stay awake the whole hour. Feeling very much like St. Peter, I would startle awake as the next adorer came in to relieve me. I could have easily felt guilt for not being attentive or awake but for some reason I never did.

And so this went on for a few months. I would arrive, say hello to Jesus and within minutes fall asleep in His presence. Usually with an ache in my heart or prayer on my lips, offered to Him in the silence of that tiny chapel, and no expectations for a response. Just the knowing that He was there and I was with Him was enough.

At the time I didn’t realize how much this shaped me, but as I’ve learned and shared here, encountering the Living God never leaves you unchanged.

It’s been nearly 10 years since those early mornings and whispered prayers. So much has changed in our lives since then — 3 more moves, another child, and unexpected challenges along the way.

I’ve been thinking a lot of those early mornings lately. Unpacking those moments, holding them in my mind, turning them over gently, pondering them, and what they really imprinted on my heart, and soul.

You see, recently I was able to go to adoration again with a friend, after so many years of not having access (I really never knew how few parishes have perpetual adoration or an adoration chapel at all).

It was glorious.

So quiet, warm, and peaceful. Just like I remembered.

There was that little red light flickering, and Jesus in His brilliance, in the monstrance. Silently present. Present to me, to my friend, and to the handful of others there on a cool Saturday morning. This time though I did not fall asleep.

No this time, I was wide awake and offering up all these cancer things from treatments to side effects and everything in-between. So much I have no control over. Asking earnestly what does He want with me in all of this. Don’t we all wonder that sometimes?

You see when I was younger, a baby spiritually, I fell asleep often in the lap of Jesus. Unable to articulate everything in my heart and mind. As I’ve grown, and over the years, handed more and more over to Jesus, He’s met me at each step. But I’ve never been able to just give it all over to Him. I suppose that’s a life-long learning process.

Still as I prayed in the chapel here I heard the gentle words I’ve become so accustomed to in prayer: “All of you”

Ten years ago, those words would have terrified me. But, through time, prayer and experience I know this is a heart in love with me yearning to have me release the last bits of control I’ve been clinging to and hand it all over to Him. Truly and fully.

An invitation into freedom and into love.

Friends, the truth is this Jesus that is wooing me wants to woo you too.

He wants to know you fully. His heart yearns for your heart. His love is pouring out for you from the cross and from His glory. And more, He is patient enough to wait for all of you even if it takes years—not for control but for love. This is intimacy on a level we were made for and that delights the soul. Often, we never experience it in life when searching for that missing part of ourselves in all the places it isn’t.

We have to remember it only resides in the heart of the One who spoke us into being.

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