Compass Rose

It’s still the same I suppose. Every spring as Easter approaches. I drive past the various Churches, with their steeples acting like beacons, sending their Celestial signal up towards the heavens. I pass there aching to go inside.

The ache rises in my chest as I pass, and then my heart sinks as I sit glued in my seat. My blood runs cold as I nervously think that ‘maybe I am unforgivable’.  How dirty I feel. Less than. Not quite good enough to stand next to any of the people donning their Sunday best.

I ache for closeness with Him like I once had. The only One who ever deserved my whole heart, who ever deserved my obedience and love.   He was the only One who would never betray me.

I can’t remember when I had stopped talking to Him.   Some call it praying.  But it was more than that to me.  It wasn’t rattling off a bunch of rote prayers, though that was how I had begun.  We were close back then.  It was like a friend that was sitting at the foot of my bed, just as real as you are reading this now.  I’d talk about everything.  Then listen.   Oh yes, He would answer.   He spoke through my intuition, I believe.  Sometimes I would ask for a sign.  Sometimes He would give me one:  a gentle cool breeze on a hot night or a small butterfly dancing at my window just as I would ask.

I had stopped going to church.  No one particular reason really and not in anger either.  Then a few years later I had stopped praying.   Other things had seemed to take precedence.  It was like one day He was just gone.  You see, it wasn’t an event, rather it was more of a process. Like most good things in life that slip away.

When I tried praying again?  it felt empty and perfunctory like I was running through mathematical computations.  Something was severed.   And I knew it hadn’t been severed by Him.   That pain of knowing what I lost has been unbearable.  The emptiness, nothing thus far can fill.

A thousand miles I have strayed off that chosen path on which I should have tread, maybe more.  It is easy to get lost out there in the darkness. Still easier to stay lost.

I don’t know how I will get back to Him.   I’m so far off course and a compass rose made only of hope in my grip.   I hope that He finds it in His heart, to forgive me.   Hope that this prodigal daughter can come home.   Hope that lost Faith will be found.

 

 

Blogging is like confession, without the Hail Marys and Our Fathers

nun_ruler

 

It’s so true isn’t it?

I come here and unload all the shit that churns around in the recesses of my mind and my soul.   All the benefits that comes with the process of confession, none of the fear of being chastised and told to repent.

So there’s something inherently therapeutic about the whole thing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch Pope Benedict resigns….

Into thin air….

At one time, my heart broke over this sex-addict.  He was sleeping with prostitutes, going to gang bangs, whoring around with swingers, doing NSA chicks off Craigslist, and caning, whipping, flogging, spanking my ass.

Tell me there is nowhere to go but up from THAT shit …

Oh but indeed I managed to sink lower…..

My heart is presently ripping in two, because my latest relationship just went belly up; into thin air.

While he was passed out from drinking two pints of Vodka (his usual daily intake) I looked at his cell phone while he was passed out,  I know I know wrong on so many levels.   And found he’d texted his buddy in San Fransisco asking if there are any conservative hot chicks there.

To which his buddy replied, “do you mind Asian girls?”  He’s already procuring the next piece of ass while he’s sleeping off his hangover in my bed.

But he said he loved me and wanted to marry me, and I freakin trusted him! I freakin’drank the Kool-aid.   He appears for his pre-trial divorce hearing in a few weeks, signed his parental rights away to his 3 kids, got thrown out of his parents house for acting like such a verbally abusive asshat, has no job because he resigned in a drunken stupor but by the time he reneged, they accepted, just got out of two detox’s in a row.

*****

My mind and heart are on parallel courses.

I thought if I just showed him what love could be, what kindness could be, if I cleaned up his puke, held his hand through his Librium haze, tolerated his calling me denigrating names when he is shit faced…..

gave him the best head he ever had, kissed him from head to toe, read from the Big Book, prayed with him, booked his doctors appointments for him, reminded him to keep them, maybe he would see he had something good?   WTF??

Even sadder, I still love him.   And wish that at the end up the episode it could all work out and that he would get sober and stop lying.  That we could live happily ever after in the Barbie Dream house with the convertible by the pool.   But not…..with that fucking Skipper bitch.

*****

Oh, please…like you’ve never had any train-wreck breakups….pfffftt.

Confiteor

Confiteor Deo omnipotenti,

et vobis fratres,

quia peccavi nimis

cogitatione, verboo

pere et omissione:

mea culpa, mea culpa,

mea maxima culpa.

Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem,

omnes angelos et Sanctos,

et vobis fratres,

orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.

Amen.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

I confess to almighty God,

 and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have sinned, through my own fault,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

and I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Amen.

I don’t like change.

I’ve said this for the last 30 years.  So long now I can say this in my sleep.  Next week the Church is going to fuck with this prayer and change the words to make it “new” version of the Roman Missal.  Where was the voting process? Pfffft.  Yeah right.  There wasn’t one.  I think this is bullshit.  I’m not sure what I”m going to do.  I think I’m going to still utter the old prayers and responses while everyone else babbles on with the other shit.

This particular prayer has special meaning for me right now.

I am feeling particularly large amounts of shame and failure in my life.

So this prayer just can’t be fucked with.  It needs to remain intact.

I’ve been sleeping with my Rosary Beads at night.  They were my grandmother’s.  She prayed on them every morning.   They are almost 80 years old.  She even has a relic on there of Saint Padre Pio of Pietrelcina .  He is a canonized Saint who had suffered stigmata.  They bring me comfort.  Knowing that her hands touched them, she was the most holy person I ever knew.  Never said a swear her whole life.  Went to Mass every day.  She was a good, good person.  Always had a smile for everyone.

My soul is in great turmoil.

At a friend’s suggestion, I am going to try take a trip for a 90 days.  I need a hiatus.  A sabbatical.

I’m nervous about this trip.   I’m going to travel light.  I will bring my Bible, I need to start reading that again.  It has been years since I have read it.  My heart has become hardened.   Stubbornly refusing to go God’s way and instead going my own willful way.  Repentance is on the forefront of my mind.  To turn away from sin, change my mind, change my direction, turn towards God…..