The lines from Gary Zukav’s “The Seat of the Soul”  come to mind tonight as I sit with Sr. Freda and her missionary guests.  “As you face your deepest struggles, you reach for your highest goal…This is the work of evolution.  It is the work that you were born to do.”

I can see that Sr. Freda is still struggling and grieving the loss of her husband, Richard.  His presence is always at the dining table where his chair sits empty.   As Sr. Freda says the evening prayer,  I am taken again by how young she is in spirit.  She has the faith of a child, who might at times feel lost, but knows her mother has her eye on her the whole time and knows where she is and just what she needs.  I’m surprised by the tears that spring to my eyes, for the truth is,  I’ve not been around a person who believes God  is  really alive in their soul for a long time.  My language and how I think is far from the simplicity of prayer.  I have evolved differently and yet, even though the language Sr. Freda prays is more traditional than how I pray today,  I sometimes miss my old self and way of being.  When Sister asks me what my religion is I answer that I was once Catholic, but I no longer believe in one religion.  I  believe all religions, as well Secular religion, Agnostic’s and Atheists have something I find true and magical.  She surprises me by laughing and giving me a high five.

Over the years I  find myself  judging Christians.  Sometimes even scornful of their simple belief that you just need to ask and it will be given to you. But as I sit with Sr. Freda and the missionaries that visit, I am able to see them with more acceptance, especially  the particular family  visiting this week.  I’m enjoying them for they are easy to be with and I enjoy watching how they behave with one another.  They have such respect for one another that I’m drawn to them.  They each tell me something about the path they have chosen and how they have created a life that gives them the time and energy  to do God’s work on earth.

Tonight, as they pray for a young girl with large eyes who has lost a mother to aids, their faces light up with love and they are happy in the knowledge that their prayers are heard.  Once in a while I catch their spark and try to be like everyone around me, wanting to be a part of the hymn singing and bible reading, even though I know I’m way off tune and have never read the bible.  Growing up Catholic, we were not allowed to read just any bible and were not allowed to read without the guidance of a priest, so I only heard Priests reading the new testament at Mass. I haven’t been to a Mass for thirty years, except for when my cousin Lori died.  I can’t bring myself to believe anymore in patriarchal institutions or forgive the Catholic church for its “old boys” loyalty in the face of incest and misogyny.  But tonight, in the presence of this loving family of a mother, father, sister and daughter, I let go of judgements and experience what I can only describe as a Divine presence.  It feels like smoke, still unseen, but moving throughout the room, waiting for me to find the small flame, still glowing beneath the pile of discarded beliefs.