Go out!

"Do you love me? Is it reciprocal?" A woman who has prayed with me asked me that tonight after she told me she loves me and prays for me and has a special place for me in her heart.

I was taken aback by her love--thank you, God--and her question; I assured her that of course I love her.

Maybe she needed to hear it like every person needs to hear they are loved. (I know I need to hear it very often). Or maybe it was God using her to remind me of his words to Peter: "'Simon son of John, do you love me?' 

"Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?' He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.' Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep.'" John 21:17)

I milk His goats. But do I feed His sheep? What does that mean?

When I went to Lourdes last month I prayed for Mary to heal me of depression. I felt like she told me at the baths, "Go out!"

I couldn't believe it. I spent half of my savings to go on the trip; I wasn't cured and I didn't know what the heck that meant. "Mary, how can I possibly go out of myself when I feel so miserable?"

So I cried. Then, I prayed the Stations of the Cross by the Gave de Pau river which runs parallel to the grotto where Mary appeared to St. Bernadette and encouraged that simple girl to go out of herself so miracles could happen.

At Station nine, Jesus falls the second time, I saw a man with intellectual disabilities sit in his wheel chair and point to Jesus, then to himself, smile and make a telescope with his fist over his eye while the other was shut tight. I read the reflection in the pamphlet I held and saw that it mentioned Jesus had just fallen, now He falls again. He is ready to pick us up every time we go to Him for forgiveness of our sins.

I thought, "This man doesn't have the capacity to freely choose wrong. How could he relate to Jesus in this station?" But somehow he did; he understood in a simpler, perhaps deeper way what it meant to go out and have Jesus mysteriously meet him there.

Then I stopped at the 12th station, Jesus is crucified. I saw a mom sit on a bench across from that station and nurse her child. My heart longed to hold that baby and I felt sad that I had no husband or babies of my own. I walked past her and then turned back.

"Do you speak English?"

"Yes, I'm from Texas!" 

(Ironically, everyone from the group I traveled with was from Texas).

"Can I hold your baby?"

"Of course!"

"Yes! Thank you! Praise the Lord!" 

The woman's husband, 2-year-old daughter, sister and mother shortly arrived on the scene. She told me they decided to take the trip because her mom always wanted to go to Lourdes and they weren't sure when they'd be able to make the trip in the future--"There's no time like the present," she said.

While we talked, the 2-year-old daughter switched my beautiful purple rosary that lay on the bench with her dirty white rosary from her purse. My rosary had been blessed by Pope Francis and dipped in the Lourdes baths. I hadn't observed the replacement.

"Give the nice lady back her rosary," the mom told her daughter. 

The girl looked at me, removed my rosary from her clutch, then dropped it back in and said, "A rosary for the princess."

Ha! Wow. I thought that I need to see myself as a princess and I'd rather have that child's rosary than a rosary blessed by the pope. So we kept the exchange. 

That moment was a gift because God gave me the grace to Go Out! If I had stayed in, I would have remained miserable.

A few nights ago, I was miserable again. I had the choice to stay home or attend a house concert. I procrastinated, ate some chocolate and painted my toenails because I wasn't sure that I had enough energy to exert with people. 

Grace got me in the car, but I still struggled. Then the Holy Spirit inspired me to pray to Mary. So I prayed, "Mary, cover me with your beauty so that people don't see my misery." 

I didn't pray that the misery would be pushed down and away, but that I could have a different appearance at this party so I could really meet people and Go Out.

My friend saw me at the party and told me my eyes were beautiful and had a different kind of light to them. I knew it wasn't me; it was the miracle of Mary.

Tonight I heard again, "Do you love me?" 

I still don't know what "Feed my sheep" fully means in my life. But I trust that God will show me the more I go out. 

Tonight I sat out on the porch with the farmer, ate watermelon and listened to folk songs played from a record through an open window. And that was a miracle too.

We marveled at the fog above the trees, the chickens that walked and pecked on the grass, and the lyrics from those songs--reminders of the dance of love and loss in life.

People suffer in this life. But there is joy. I see that better if I go out.

Lord, help me to go out again and again so I can learn more how to love. Through Mary. Amen.