041817

[prismaticbleed]

spiritual thoughts 041817.
 

 

leaving the legion of mary meeting today felt like dawn. the sun was setting but it felt like it was coming up-- and it strongly spoke to my heart of the risen Christ.

 

  the gospel and OBOB reading today:
mary magdalene, preoccupied with the body of Christ in the grave-- "they have taken my Lord and I don't know where they put Him;” and when she MET Christ, she was so preoccupied that she didn't recognize Him, and asked Him that, if He knew where Christ's (old!) body was, to give it to her so she could take it with her.
Basically she didn't have "resurrection eyes" yet, UNTIL he called her by name.
That means a lot to me.
First, though, I want to say that when He did this, she immediately said "Rabboni" and went to touch Him. Father P emphasized today that this was an old mindset way of thinking. He was not just "teacher." He was, as Thomas would say upon seeing Him, "my Lord and my God." Mary's need to touch his body, to reassure herself of the old tangible life she remembered and loved, was rooted ultimately in not yet understanding that he had risen. Hence, "do not hang on to me."
Jesus, risen and resurrected, had to die first. He literally DIED. He left His body, he went down into Gehenna for heaven's sakes, he freed all the just souls there to eternal life with and in Him at long last… and then, he came back, here. He came back here. But, He is the ONLY human to ever have done so, as He is also God, and death has no power over Him. Nevertheless it brings up the question. When He arose, when his divine soul returned into his poor bloodied and battered body, and glorified it into something luminous and new… what, exactly, occurred? Perhaps we'll never really "know." But we can see this event with an open heart and "resurrection eyes."
There's a painting I'm using as my wallpaper right now, of Jesus meeting Mary Magdalene in the garden by His now-empty tomb. It's beautiful and green and soft and hopeful, with a dawn light, with the quiet but bursting-with-joy, lily-gold exuberance that defines Easter morning.
Her face doesn't hold that yet. Her eyes are visibly teary, her face lined subtly with sorrow, but there's hope in those eyes. In this moment, I think, something in her heart has recognized Jesus even if her mind has not. It's the moment before he calls her by name. That split second, after she sorrowfully pours our her heart and begs for her beloved Savior's broken body, the visible absence of which is unbearable in light of the loss of his physical life-- that split second after her plea, as the "gardener" opens his mouth and says, "Mary."
So let's get back to that. The name thing.
Jesus calls me by name a lot. Just my name-- or, rather, one of my "three" names; Jessica, Jewel, and Jescha/ Iscah. But really, it's my given name that means the most. It's the name that has held all my faults and sins and mistakes, but when Jesus says it, He says it with love. He says it with recognition of hope, of who I was created by Him to be, of who I can STILL be, in every moment, through and with and in Him, no matter who else calls my name with what intentions. When Jesus calls me, it's like He's naming the stars all over again. It's like He's christening me (how fitting!) all over again. It's a Baptism of speech, a simple gentle fragile powerful beautiful inundation of love, held like a little bird nestled in his hands, held all bound up in roses within my spring-soft name.
When Jesus calls me, my eyes are opened, too, and I see not only Him as He is, but I see myself as I am… how He sees me. And my eyes are opened to my own resurrection within His.
Such requires me to have died with Him as well.
And I'm okay with that. I've always been 100% okay with that, and that's a hidden mysterious blessing that, quite frankly, I like thinking about.
Since childhood, I've been enamored with Christ's Sacred Heart, with Mary's Immaculate Heart, but even more so, with the fact that those Hearts are pierced. They are beautiful, but bleeding.
Remember that one prayer card.

 

 
(later) 

…The one thing that upsets me the most about my struggle with this eating disorder is that everyone will just stand and watch.
Today I binged on avocados and ice cream, and the whole time, my grandfather and mother knew I was hurting myself and knew I would get sick and yet they just sat and watched. Then when I ran to the bathroom to purge it in a regretful sick angry sad panic, they started to talk amongst themselves, about how bad I was, about what I ate, about how I kept throwing up, etc.
But they won't do anything to stop it. Why?
I don't want to entertain the thought or even think about it. I have to solve this on my own, with God's help of course. But it is upsetting, to realize that on some level, I suppose they'd rather say "I told you so" than prevent the bad thing from happening. Do they maybe feel I won't listen?
I want to listen. I want to NOT do the bad things in the first place.
Ugh but this topic is turning my stomach. Better to not dwell on the bad! Better to set my sight on higher, better things, and leave all that junk in the past to rot, where it belongs. If you don't carry it to the present, guess what, it won't follow you.

 

Tomorrow I might sleep in (I need rest) but I don't want to skip morning mass. I adore morning mass.
I just have to see my therapist at noon and I want to cancel because I just… really don't want to go.