An increasing awareness of this idea – that God is dwelling among the people – this is a great Lenten goal. I had the privilege of participating in a deacon formation event yesterday with a very wise priest from our diocese who talked about the ancient prayer/chant that the deacon prays at the beginning of the great vigil of easter, which is the night before easter Sunday. It’s an ancient hymn that’s designed to highlight the convergence of darkness into light, death into life. Frequently we use this day to train the newly or soon to be ordained deacons the logistics of the chant. Yesterday, we rested in the history and meaning of the words.
I couldn’t do it justice, but suffice it to say, I believe everyone had a new-found appreciation for the ‘why’ behind the chant, and the deacon’s role in the church both at the vigil and throughout the year. It was wonderful.
This morning, I’m thinking about how to increase my awareness of God’s presence in my life, by getting rid of things that get in the way of me seeing and understanding that. What is it that I’m doing, or not doing what’s interfering? What things help and what things get in the way? What practices have I cultivated that help, and what need to be let go.
One of the things I’ve gotten in the habit of is checking in on my sick loved one’s social media presence. They have over 60,000 followers on Instagram, and spend hours per day ‘live’, either talking to their fans, or just talking about life and their music. Two days ago, one of her ‘fans’ found me on social media and explained their concern about my loved one’s behavior, and their willingness to smoke, drink and talk about sex – a lot – with anyone who cares to watch. Some of the people our loved one is connecting with are not especially healthy, at least from the perspective of the ‘fan’ who connected with me. The fan was worried about the safety of our loved one and us, as our loved one shares personal identifying information about their residence.
In addition, our loved one has established an account where ‘fans’ can donate money. As I understand it from our loved one, they’ve accumulated approximately $100 from fans who’ve donated. Our loved one explains she has no food (not true) or money (not true), and that their fans should contribute. And they do.
I want my loved one to be happy, and I’m certain there are more dangerous behaviors on Instagram and more money being transacted for worse purposes. And those others aren’t living in my house. It’s quite a balance, between trying to monitor for safety, allowing my loved one the privacy and agency to make their own choices, and what feels good to my soul.
After serious reflection, it’s not good for my soul to monitor. I can do little about it, and even if I could, I’m not sure it would be worth the angst in the family. Limit internet access for a 24 year old? Monitor their ‘friends’ or ‘fans’? I’m not even sure that’s possible. So I spend much of my day checking the places I’m permitted to see (they’ve blocked much of our access), just so I can worry more.
In the midst of my worrying and checking and responding to their well-intentioned fans who reach out to us, I’m not very mindful of God’s presence. And if I were, it’s more of a grumble that I throw up towards God. Perhaps rather than the time spent sleuthing, I will turn to prayer.
And I’m not talking about the kind of prayer that is designed to change my loved one – heal them, change their interests, or perspectives. I’m talking about the prayer that is designed to change me. How can God lead me through this challenging time of caring for my sick loved one? Where can I find God’s peace and presence, or better, how can I get in touch with God’s peace and presence that’s already here. I just forget. The urge to check on my loved one is great. The urge to check my phone to do so is great. That is a convenient prompt to instead turn to God. Today, I’ll do that.
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