The Desert Is Calling Me.

I'll be the first person to admit that I'm naive, gullible, and dense. Just the other day, I was out with some friends, and I had a two minute long delay understanding the topic at hand.  So these qualities, especially being so dense, can kind of make it hard for me to see and hear God, especially if He whispers, which I think most of the time, He is inclined to do.

I think God has pity on poor dense me though; often times, I feel like I get hit over the head with a frying pan with a certain messages. This past Lent, everywhere I turned, I ran into the phrase, "happiness is a choice."

Now, I keep running into the idea of the desert. It first started here.  And then about two or three weeks ago it was mentioned in a homily.  And then father mentioned it last week in the Adult Catechism class. And I was browsing the Catholic book section of Books A Million last tuesday, and I opened it to a page about going to the desert of oneself to pray. This is one of those times that I keep seeing the idea come up so much, there has to be something to it. I think God is calling me to the desert - my desert so that I can hear Him, listen to Him, and do His will. So that I can better learn how to pray.

Prayer is always something I have struggled with, mainly because what I was taught of prayer growing up was pray what you feel, ask God for what you want. If you're in His good graces, He'll bless you.  Vending machine God, basically.  But somewhere along the line in college, I figured out on my own that shouldn't be how it goes.  But heck if I knew how to pray or where to find some guidance.

I'm good at sporadic prayer. I'm good at short little one liners during the day when I have a trying student, and I'm alright at remembering my nightly prayers. Sometimes I pass out saying them. I'm awful at morning prayers. I'm awful in the morning period. I'm lucky if I remember to say a Hail Mary on the drive to work I'm so grumpy and groggy. I try to sit and listen and do contemplative prayer, but I get restless. And for some reason, the Rosary relaxes me so much, I always pass out before finishing the third or fourth decade. I have an odd feeling if I make it to purgatory, (fingers crossed!), I'm going to have to finish all my unfinished rosaries.

I have no idea what God is going to tell me when I find my desert or how long I'll have to wait before He speaks. I'm a little scared actually. But also excited. And hopeful. I've really been trying to relinquish the need to control every aspect of my life, and as Father John said the other day, "allow God to surprise [me]." I feel like something big is coming, and I really think it is going to surprise me. But I also think it's going to entail a bit more of change and growing pains.

The desert is calling me, and I'm going, fingers crossed and holding my breath.

Less than 3,
V.