Good days bad days

“I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me” [2 Corinthians 12:9]

"After back to back children and breastfeeding, I finally got my cycle back. And I learned that what I had taken for virtue in myself, was actually just stable levels of androgens" a quote from an anonymous lady on the internet.

Much of the time, now, I am floating mid stream. The current takes me where I need to go and it - the current, my bouyancy, the various properties of my body and the water, - they're gifts.

On these good days the morning offering and the rosary are gifts too, to be savoured. Undeserved and not wrangled from the cosmos, or even from the chaos of home. Given. Received.

And then. Those times when my body complains and I'm too churlish to drink the water or locate the moisturiser. Clamouring frustrated emotions take the driving seat, and I try to soothe them by eating sugary foods and drinking coffee. My mind is sharp, barbed, worrying at the same things over and over, and my spirituality is like this: that rosary, which last week was as delightful as an expensive fragrant soap, now seems like a trap, meant to cow me and waste my time. I think about picking up the phone to my father in heaven, but I don't want to, because he'll be ashamed of me. I'm not exactly SINNING.. but I feel guilty.

It takes a certain amount of distance to observe yourself. This gift was given me when we went to confession together over the summer, Elaine. I talked with the priest about inconsistency. I said, "sometimes I walk through my day chatting happily to Jesus all the while. And somedays I can't say my prayers, everything is wrong."

The priest said, "consistency can be a double edged sword. When you ride a bike, sometimes you pedal. That's like the days when you talk to Jesus. And sometimes you free wheel. Sometimes you walk side by side with Him and sometimes He carries you."

This freed me enough to watch myself through a funk. I saw that although I believe that a bad mood - churlishness when it comes to taking care of my body throughout the day, or saying formal prayers - puts me out of God's grace; it might be... that it doesn't.

So formal prayer gets hard, maybe that doesn't discount me from heaven, could I possibly just be honest in my prayers? If my emotions are grinding and screaching like electronic interference and I can see sweet trusting toddler faces struggling to make sense of them. Can I trust the Father's system - that children are resilient, not egg-shell fragile, that other people can be strong for them, when I am weak.

Because if I could feel unloveable, and yet, know that I am loved. Well that would change everything.

And do you know what Elaine? I managed an honest prayer today, and one that wasn't just an angry - 'Well you fix it then!' A recollected one. So now I'm feeling happy with myself - my still-out-of-sorts self. And I'm celebrating with a couple of pints - of water. (Even though I know that really, I haven't earned them. I've just been given more gifts.)