For the past couple of weeks I’ve been living out of my suitcases. Holed up in my temporary living quarters — the second floor of a spacious and comfortable home in the suburbs outside San Antonio. Not exactly the life of a missionary.
Nor is life in American suburbia the life I want. But I won’t be here much longer. And my hosts have been so gracious and kind to take me in for the month of November. So I deal with the inconvenience of having to dig under piles of once folded, packed clothing to find clean underwear. Or try to remember if I stuffed those shoes I now need in a tote bag I brought into the house or in a box still hiding in the back of my Subaru.
In truth, none of this matters. It’s a small price I’m choosing to pay for following my heart. For listening to inner guidance and going where the Spirit leads me.
But there’s another price to pay as well.
The cost of saying goodbye yet again.
Lately I’ve been feeling the sadness of leaving the Sisters and others I’ve connected with while serving Incarnate Word Missionaries. Some very special people have supported me, been present to me in the challenges, and touched my heart. Along with the difficulties and sometimes painful moments, there have been many gifts.
There always are.
In fact, I’ve come to see that it’s all gift. Even when — and sometimes especially when — the gift arrives hidden in rough, tattered, or unexpected packaging.
Ironically, now that I’m leaving, I’m immersed in a spiritual community. Sharing lunch with the retired Sisters at The Village. Participating in Women’s Global Connection’s commissioning ceremony for volunteers headed to Peru. Chatting with the Sisters on campus. Slipping into the chapel for quiet moments.
In those quiet moments the magnitude of what I’m embarking on hits me. This time I’m stepping off with no sure footing. I’ve said yes to returning to El Paso without knowing where I’ll land. With no certain ministry to go to. Simply trusting that following my heart is enough. That the Divine will be present. No matter how or what shows up.
“You’re off the grid,” my friend Liz tells me. “You’re trusting God in a way most of us can’t.”
She’s right. And I’m living off the grid and trusting God in a way I myself couldn’t have a year ago. My journey of the heart has prepared me for this. It has allowed me to say yes to complete uncertainty. Because each step off the grid has proven I can trust Spirit.
But, honestly, I woke up this morning feeling a bit anxious. After all, it’s nearly the end of the month and I don’t have a definite assignment in El Paso, a ministry to go to, a place that will take me in. I started to doubt. I prayed for deeper trust.
Suddenly an email popped onto my phone. A response I’d been awaiting for weeks. It’s from the Columban Fathers. They are inviting me to come write for their border ministry. And they have arranged lodging.
I’m not kidding. I couldn’t make this stuff up.
Funny how just yesterday someone reminded me that all I needed was faith the size of a mustard seed.
I’m also reminded of one of the many gifts Sr. Brigid has given me: a copy of the first principle and foundation of St. Ignatius. He wrote a wonderful book on spiritual exercises. And he was a big fan of discernment.
The last line reads:
“Our only desire and our one choice should be this: I want and I choose what better leads to God’s deepening God’s life in me.”
That’s what I choose. And that means I’d better be prepared to accept whatever shows up. To say yes to life. To be OK with living off the grid.