call no man father

THOU: "So, you are ready." "Yes," I said. "And what brought about this sudden change of mind?" But I couldn't explain without crying again, for there is something very painful bound up with this vow, Lord. I tend to think acceptance is still and small, like your voice after the earthquake, after the fire and the wind. But acceptance need not wait on stillness. It can be very sure of itself even in violent turmoil. Even in pain and fear.

"Why after all ... ?" I don't think Fr expected a straight answer. Nor did he want an account of all I've wrestled with before arriving at this point. He was gentling his way into the conversation--for it wasn't an easy conversation between us yesterday--and confirming that my intention is still plain. Of course, there is one last barrier to this vow, a very human barrier, that in your view (I fathom) is simply to be crossed: this is the man, your instrument, who will receive my vow. Did I choose him? Or did you, Lord? Or did we choose him together? Everything feels right--the date, the preparation, the guidance I've received from him and from you, even Maribel's death--yes, everything feels right, but for my lack of trust in him.

Little of that is his doing, as he well knows. I have leaned on him too much, this man who withstands my leaning by keeping a reasonable distance. When Maribel died it was no different. I had the sense he was waiting out the storm. I understand I am impatient, turmoil has made me impatient with him, with you, though eventually I receive everything I need, and more. Yet: I have questions, I write them out, I send them to him, I spend the several weeks or months until our meeting seeking answers so that when I meet with him, I know what he will say, I have answered my own questions: I have more answers at the ready than he does. In this way our meetings seem fruitless, seem to be there solely as a way of providing closure, corroboration, and lately the challenge of acceptance. I feel I am wasting his time; I feel I am wasting my energy. It takes a day for me to drum up courage to ask to see him, days or weeks of anxiety in waiting to hear back, persistence--for I must usually follow up with a phone call a week later to ask again, weeks again before I'll actually see him, then another day or two fending off anxiety before the time of our meeting: only to arrive in front of him, tongue-tied, distracted, wrenched away entirely from you, Lord, and miserable.

It's a funny kind of reciprocity, that I depend on a man who keeps sending me to see his poverty. Who invites me to trust his poverty just as much as I am unwilling to trust it. So I am asking you: is this what you want for me? If so, then I accept it. But if I am feeling anxious about what often feels like directionless direction because you would like to lead me to someone else, then I need help. I cannot seem to arrive at this understanding on my own, and though I've put the question to him many times, Fr cannot do more (or perhaps better) than to send me back to prayer.

He says I ought not be without direction right now, that I ought to have direction with someone, though it need not be him. He also said that whatever is going on in my head with this question of paternity and trust will likely happen again with another priest. He said St Theresa had two spiritual directors at one point, and then suddenly none at all, and it was clear to her that you had chosen to direct her yourself. But I am no saint. I've entrusted myself to Fr in obedience with the hope that I will find you there, leading him; yet obedience alone does not answer your call. Even trust does not sufficiently respond. In some ways I think your call to chastity, to love others with divine and spiritual love, is what you want of me in this relationship: to open myself chastely towards Fr, to risk loving him with your love. Perish the thought, some little fist in me says. He abandoned you (and called it providential)! Well, Lord. I am clearly attached--not to him--but to wanting to hurt this relationship through unchaste wounded attachments, so as to break it and be done with it. Which means he is right: giving him up for someone else will not dissolve the bonds. Giving him up for someone else will only make them stronger, for it would not be renunciation at work, but the looming of pride.

Why am I making this vow after all? Father, this relationship with Fr is part of my answer. It is only a small part, though it feels enormous and heavy, so again I am saying: you take it. Do something beautiful with it, whatever you will. Teach me to love with your love.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. To God who is, who was, and who is to come, now and forever.

Amen.

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