Cathedral of One

I feel a little bit sheepish writing about my belief in God. It's difficult in this culture and to me at least, this relationship feels highly personal. I'm no longer affiliated with my old church for reasons both mundane and idiosyncratic but that hasn't diminished my relationship with what I perceive as divine. On the contrary, my last few years have significantly strengthened my sense that we are not alone here and that we each have been singled out for a purpose or purposes. If you were to ask me what mine is, I have only the beginning of an answer. First and foremost, I believe I am here to raise these children under these particular circumstances. I feel called to this work at this time. Every day I wonder if what I do today will make it so that my grandchildren do not have to suffer the abrupt departure of a parent. I'd love to think that I could play some small role in ending this generational dysfunction. But I recognize that parenting is just one aspect of my life, I guess I think that the least that I or any of us can do  to justify our time and space on this blue-green planet is to try to be an instrument of peace. I have the prayer of Saint Francis on my bathroom mirror and the part that catches my heart each time I read it is the part that begins with, "Grant that I may comfort, rather than be comforted..." Would that I could wake up each day and not just talk about this, but walk this way too.

This morning I awakened early with a feeling of drift and an oppressive sense of worry. I've been rereading a book I read several years ago and benefitted from, LIT by Mary Karr. I opened to the chapter where the author is struggling to accept and integrate a higher power into her life. Her AA sponsor suggests that if she can't believe in God per se, than perhaps she might think of the group, with all its collective wisdom, as her higher power. She wonders aloud to her sponsor whether or not she should get divorced. Her sponsor suggests she ask someone in the group. So she asks some random stranger sitting on a folding chair next to her. And this is what he says:

"Get down on your knees and yield to what scares you. Yield up what makes you want to scream and cry. It's an empty football stadium with all the lights on. It's a cathedral... And pray. Pray to be an instrument of peace."

"What if I get no answer?" the author asks. His response: "If God hasn't spoken, do nothing. Fulfill the contract you entered into and wait. Go quietly and shine. Those not impelled to act must remain in the cathedral. Don't be lonely...just wait."

I closed the book and my eyes and I too, did what the group member suggested. I established a cathedral of one and offered up the things that make me scream and cry. And then... I felt better, calmer, more ready to face my day.

I was telling someone about this  and she suggested that perhaps my higher power was speaking to me through Mary Karr. That somehow, this author and her book became in that instant an earthly representation of my higher power, just as the AA member had been to her. It hadn't really occurred to me that perhpas God speaks to us through each other. And I am relentlessly stubborn in my belief that I am the supreme agent in my life. I seem to be somebody who needs frequent reminding that not only is this not true, but in the face of all this mysterious abundance, I am just a tiny, vulnerable speck. And I am not at all surprised to learn that the only way that God can get me to listen is through the pages of a book.