It began with me loving nature. And I think the question-asking sprung from there.Everybody has a story. Why don't we listen more? Today I'm thinking about mine. I heard someone else's. Now I'm left with bigger questions, but I'm grateful for them.
Why am I here? Where will I go? How is it that I'm still riding this river, this journey that flows through peaceful channels and over turbulent, cascading waterfalls. I've been a Christian much of my life. But I've also been a Pagan, a Wiccan, a Hindu, a Buddhist, and always a Question-asker.
So I ask those questions. I won't feel bad for it.
“There is so much deep contradiction in my soul. Such deep longing for God - so deep that it is painful - a suffering continual - and yet not wanted by God - repulsed - empty - no faith - no love - no zeal. Souls hold no attraction - Heaven means nothing - to me, it looks like an empty place - the thought of it means nothing to me and yet this torturing longing for God. Pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything. For I am only His - so He has every right over me. I am perfectly happy to be nobody even to God. . . .
Your devoted child in Jesus Christ,
Mother. Teresa”
Why do I worry over my questions when I see, within the chaos in this world, so many beautiful answers. So many beautiful moments. So many terrifyingly incredible waves of catastrophic glory. So I am left here wondering, reveling in the chaotic masterpiece of my soul and the souls around me.
Let's listen to the masterpiece for a moment, let's stop to hear the sound of the beauty in the hypocrisy of our own hearts. Maybe those questions will be the most beautiful sounds we have heard in a long, long time.
Sheila
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