I’m supposed to be painting the bathroom. For the better part of the last hour I’ve been tediously taping off all the woodwork and tile in preparation. All the painting “stuff” is in a mass outside the door on my bedroom floor. With all systems “go”, why am I blogging?
Well, whenever I am faced with a mundain job like pre-paint taping, my mind begins to wander. Anyone who knows me is familiar with my talent of linking seemingly unrelated topics. Once I begin a voyage of the mind, only God knows where I’ll end up.
This morning I have been a bit preoccupied by my calico, Izzie, who seems to be spending more and more time outside. So far, she hasn’t left the backyard, spending the majority of her time on the deck observing the birds and squirrels at the feeders. I feel more comfortable letting her out here because there isn’t the danger of getting hit by a car or attacked by another cat like there was at our last house. Besides, she makes such a racket at the back door, it’s a relief just to open it and let her go! She never spends more than an hour or so out and then will come in to eat, use the box or nap. When she’s out, I check on her as I would a child, just to make sure she’s in eyeshot. Sometimes she’ll come to the door and cry like she wants to come in when what she really wants is for me to come out and be with her. Cute. Other times, when I come to the door, I can tell she’s been sitting there for a while, waiting.
So, there I was, crawling along the baseboards, taping away, thinking about Izzie and hoping she was alright in the backyard, when it occurred to me that this relationship we have is very similar to my relationship to God. I have been “let out the back door” so to speak. I trust God is checking out the door every once in a while to make sure I’m still in view. I also believe that when I ask, God will be with me outside and when I am really in need, if I wait by the door, it will be opened to me. Maybe the opportunity won’t come as quickly as I’d like, but God will open the door if I trust and stay close by.
I am by definition a “cradle Catholic”. I was baptized prior to the Vatican II Council and was a small child during the transition to the Mass in the vernacular. All through my teen and young adult years I was aware of the angst these changes caused. So much so that even today, almost fifty years later, the changes are being debated. This Advent season, the English speaking church will embark on more changes which to some appear to be a turning back to the “old ways”.
At first, I have to admit, the thought of a change had my fur rubbed the wrong way. I even considered checking out other denominations, tired of the bickering between those who want the Mass to be more holy and those who are happy with the status quo. Then I had an epiphany – so this is how the PeePs (People in Pews) felt in the Sixties and Seventies – maybe it’s not the change but the conflict that is so unsettling.
In my mind wandering this morning, I have decided that as long as I trust that God is watching over me and will answer me when I call and open the door, eventually, that is good enough for me. I am weary of debating which words are the right words to say and whether it is more reverent to stand or kneel. I know I don’t care whether Izzie meows in a special way or pats on the door in the appropriate manner. That isn’t what relationship is about.
So there you go. From taping the baseboards to a philosophical epiphany.