Day Twenty-Seven
Yesterday, after all the bustling Masses, baptisms and Easter egg hunts, I had dinner with a lovely and kind family. Four generations sat around their table, which had been adorned with fresh spring flowers of many fragrances and hues. Napkins and plates matched the light greens, blues, and pinks of everyone’s springtime attire. Outside the window, the sun was shining on daffodils and hydrangeas in full bloom.
Today’s reading, however, describes Thérèse’s darkness. “He permitted my soul to be invaded by the thickest darkness,” she wrote. She had made her consecration to Merciful Love with great joy but within a few months had sunk into feelings of doubt and confusion. Thérèse soldiered through these feelings but it was a great test of her faith. Most of us will not have to suffer such deep and prolonged darkness, but what do we do with even normal mood swings?
This morning I awoke with a bit of a headache and a sore back. Life’s unsolvable problems lined up in front of my bed as I thought about which side to get up on. I’m not getting any younger, and this world is not getting any brighter, but we are all getting closer to heaven if we can just hang on to our faith. So I got up and changed all the calendars from March to April. It’s a new month, and a new day, the day God has made for us.
Darkness is a mystery, but with time and persistence, we can say with Mother Teresa, “I have come to love the darkness.” I can even make friends with my pain, holding fast to the hope that every day on earth is a day closer to heaven.
Prayer
Come, Holy Spirit, fire of mercy. Help me to trust even amid the double darkness of my weakness and temptations against God and heaven.