Present Moment Glitches

Perhaps like these dwarf Japanese Maple leaves, blotched from the elements, present moments have glitches.  I should have sprayed the various Japanese Maples as I should have sprayed the roses one final time before autumn.  The acts of the will did not materialize in some matters temporal...and struggle, strength v. weakness, in spiritual efforts.

The temporal efforts can be excused due to physical pain, but that would not be totally authentic.  More, it seems the spiritual trials affect not only the mind but also the emotions.  The body then caves to the mind's faltering, and acts of the will to do such tasks as spraying, weaken to the point of physical inaction.

Yes, St. Mark the Ascetic and St. Hesychios the Priest, along with simple prudence, tell us to not allow negative, weary, or malignant thoughts into the mind.  Or if they slip in, we are to nip them in the bud and toss them out.  Over and done.  Then proceed.  Counter laziness with action, ignorance with knowledge, doubts with faith, pride with humility, and above all: love.

This weekend evidenced weakness.  Temptations battled to despair over experiencing the glories of rejection.  Fought back with sheer acts of will to get to Mass even though the sense of being an outcast heightened among people.  (Too much to explain the details.)  Then home to make act of will to get out and water, prune, and do bucket brigade across Lake Immaculata, hauling water up the steep incline to desperately thirsting trees.  One dead and two endangered...should have been over there days ago.

Once outside, the situation with the neighbor erupted in her tirades of demonic cursing.  The sensation of being outcast intensified.  Inside I came to pray and play harp.  Out again in act of will to continue efforts.  Neighbor seems to have sixth sense.  Comes out and begins cursing again.  Go to front. Tirade follows to the front. But persevere, praying all the while, for know something is succeeding.

When the present moments seem devoid of Jesus, and rejection, ugliness, assaults and sense of being the outcast persist, then we must know to endure and proceed in acts of the will and prayer.  

Perhaps the devil is riled due to having taken strong action in exhorting and warning someone to pull away from a start-up religious order having been suppressed by an archbishop.  The person warned is deep into the charismatic movement, has returned
to a group in which loyalties are wrongly placed in phenomenon.

Or perhaps the devil is peeved that while feeling an outcast, I did get to Mass, did pray for those who persecute, did pray for love and healing for all, did return home to pray and make the body get out and tend the drought-beleaguered of God's created beauties.

Perhaps the devil was ticked off because while the temptations got into the thoughts, and other thoughts considered fleeing from the front lines, the prayers of others and the smallest acts of the will from within, overcame the insidious thoughts.  Would have been heroic had I not let the thoughts have even the first foothold, but am not heroic, yet did endure by the grace of God.  It counts. 


When we think or feel that Christ is not in some of the more unsavory pleasant moments, He IS.  He is more than ever, as He watches and protects and encourages through the Holy Spirit, in our efforts no matter how seemingly small.  It makes me think of the old Irish Da's football game story.  He did not tell it, but was his imprint.

Someone took him at age 90 to his first Notre Dame game.  The Da loves the Irish and was thrilled to be in attendance.  As the evening wore on, the chill and rain wore thin.  Notre Dame was irretrievably down at the end of the third quarter.  The man who was with the Da asked him, "Surely you would like to leave now, for the game is essentially over?  It is cold and raining."


The old Irish Da turned to the man, 30 years his younger, and with steeled posture spoke but few solemn words:  We bury our dead.


Bleachers already emptying, they remained the entire game. Notre Dame lost. Soaked, cold and weary, the man returned the Da, late night, the 80 miles to the monastery.  Act of the will wins.

No matter the battle, be it the result of our own vices or having stumbled upon some sticking point of the devil, stirring the evil nest, or a combination of our poor selves being suckered by the trials of the temporal or spiritual world, persevere in prayer and acts of the will.  Jesus is our Coach and Supportive Crowd.  We remain on His Team in every present moment, no matter how glitched the game appears to earthly view, steadfast to the glorious end.