I have always looked for truth. It's kind of like organization; it's something to reach for but hard to find, for me, anyways. I grew up a southern Baptist. I moved near Lake Erie and went the non denominational route, moved back to the south, thrilled to have my Baptist church back only to realize that no, I couldn't go home again. Then I tried the Methodist Church which led me home to the Catholic church.
I love my church. I love the church because it immerses me in the history of Jesus. I love the rituals that help me to quiet myself enough to hear the whisper of God. I love the incense, symbolic of the prayers I pray, breathing the fragrance in allowing it to permeate me before I release it up to the heavens. I love following the liturgical year, helping me to connect to a path that Jesus might have taken.
With all of that being said, I have great respect for the journey of others. I think that we all have to follow our own paths to truth. What I have begun to notice is the "hallowed ground" in this blogging community. I have realized that the members of this community are those who have seen some of the most difficult things ever. And, without shame or pretension, they have learned to look beyond. The members of this "club" have usually been touched to such a degree that there is little judgement, greater compassion, no superficiality, and greater clarity.
We have all been broken. Broken to the point that we have let go of pride, unrealistic and unimportant notions of how things "should be" and with some of the crap out of the way see things with a extreme sense of clarity. This clarity helps us to see the "least of these" with new eyes, minus all of the labels and lack of hope that I might have had just a few years back. I think I've found some hallowed ground here and I walk it with great respect and honor for those who walk it with me.
Today I pray a prayer of thanksgiving for the wonderful community that I find myself in. I pray for our addicted loved ones both active and in recovery and for their families. And I say a prayer for Henry.