As I sit down to write, I don’t have much to say. I’ve retired from teaching college students because I didn’t have much to say to them either.
It’s not a good feeling drawing a blank on what to teach the next day, especially when students are quiet back at you. Though magic can happen when one friend offers their friend an empty bowl of quiet, especially when she needs to pour her story like soup into that bowl.
I have known people who were so full of themselves, anything I said slammed back like a racquet ball. But I have known people who are so still, so quiet, even their voice comes from some hallowed place in their soul.
Father MacFarlane, the priest at St. Barnabus in Glen Ellyn, back in the eighties, was like this.
I’d come to him for spiritual direction but complained about my latest boyfriend. I was not dignified, but he listened, saying that maybe I was working out my salvation with behavior that would not work for the community but was needful for me.
He midwifed a great change in my life — I was able to meet and marry a kind, good man despite consistently dating jerks. And I honored Father Bob with my trust, with this change.
If you find yourself empty, you can offer that. If you find yourself wild with drama, that too can be a gift.
I’m Katie Andraski and this is my perspective.
