Love has Come for Us All

Years ago, I used to hang out at All Saints Convent in Catonsville, Maryland.  The Convent had a beautiful scriptorium full of holy cards that were hand painted by the sisters.  Each card had a picture and a saying.  It may be a scripture, or something wise and uplifting said by a holy person.

One card in particular stood out to me.  In it a little boy is kneeling on the ground.  He seems to be gathering flowers into a little bouquet.  From the message, you can read his intent:  "Go; nothing is better for the soul than to make another soul less sad."  

As a dysthymic, I am well acquainted with the problem of negative thinking.  My mind can be a weed patch overgrown with negative thoughts, rather than a garden blooming with flowers of peace, love and joy.  I also know, as an introvert, that the worst possible thing I can do for myself is to try to weed my own patch.  To paraphrase Jesus' warning about not sweeping the house clean just so it can be possessed by seven more devils, I've learned that if I tear up one weedy thought hastily and without care, ten more are likely to grab its place.

Over the years, however, I have discovered two important tools to help free me from the tyranny of the mind bent on its own destruction.  One is Adoration.

Adoration, or sitting quietly before the Blessed Sacrament, first and foremost offers me the opportunity to know I am not alone with my thoughts, no matter how painful they may be.  Just as Jesus asked his disciples to watch with him during his hour of suffering, in Adoration, he is watching with me.

In addition, it allows me the chance to let negative thoughts simply come and go.  I've used different visuals to help me in that process, one for each of the four seasons:  

• In the winter, my thoughts are snowflakes that disappear in a roaring campfire
• In the spring, my thoughts are bits of pollen carried away by birds, bees and butterflies to far distant fields where they can't bother me.
• In the summer, they are ripe dandelions, sending their fluff up into the air and away, away.
• In the fall, they are dry, brown leaves falling to earth, becoming one with it as they decay.

Each of these images helps me to remember how impermanent are my thoughts.  It gives me a moment to realize I can live without them.  I don't have to worry, be angry, obsess, daydream, live in the future, live in the past.

Lastly, it teaches me that in the absences of my self-absorbed thoughts, I can open myself to God's thoughts for me.

I've alluded already to the other tool.  Get the hell out of dodge, to paraphrase Pascal.  In other words, service.  Go weed someone else's patch.  Comfort the sick.  Visit the prisoner.  Clothe the naked.  Feed the poor.  

For one blessed second, forget yourself and preach the good news.  God is Love.  Love has come for us all.  

When you preach that message, whether in deeds or in words, you help others let go of the worst negative thought any one of us can ever think:  "No one cares for me."   

Instead, they'll say, "Thanks for thinking of me."  

Pax et Bonum,

Rose