January 3: Spiritual Gift, Music, New Cartoon

Enflamed by the sacred music and soft chanting, his heart lifted out of his body and winged its way through the heavens of the church.  Supernatural presences, invisible to the world, seemed thick in that place, as if between the image of Christ who is newly born and the image of the Christ who would die on the cross and, resurrected, return as the light of this world, there flowed a powerful, mystical energy.  And his sense of that energy would leave Ives, his head momentarily empty of washing machine and automobile advertisements, convinced that, for all his shortcomings as a man, he once had a small, if imperfect, spiritual gift.

One of the things I love most about Edward Ives as a character is his imperfection.  He's a deeply devout man, dedicated to his church and wife and children and friends.  Yet he struggles through most of Mr. Ives' Christmas.  He struggles with his identity, sexual desires, inability to forgive.  Through most of the novel, he's suffering through a prolonged period of depression.  He's a troubled guy.  And, yet, Ives knows about spiritual gifts.  He's able to rise about his "imperfect" self to touch something supernatural.  Sacred.


I am certainly not a perfect person.  If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you have probably realized that about me already.  I can be a petty, jealous, angry, horny, insecure individual.  And that's all before breakfast.  However, I recognize my character challenges.  I work on them all the time.  Ives finds escape and comfort in church music, especially the chants and carols of Christmas.  I also find my better self when I'm listening to or participating in some kind of sacred sound.  That's why I've been a church organist, choir director, cantor, and musician for close to thirty years.  Music is a spiritual gift in my life.

After I'm done typing this post, I'm going to play some sacred music.  Gregorian chant maybe.  It relaxes me.  Puts me in a better frame of mind.  I need that this evening.  My sister who went to the ER yesterday is still at the hospital.  She's not much better.  She's still hallucinating and weak.  This afternoon, she was talking to my six-year-old son in her hospital room.  The problem is that my son was at home, about twenty miles away.  She's covered in a horrible rash and doesn't even realize that she's in the hospital.  She keeps on trying to leave her hospital room to "go upstairs and talk to mom and dad."

So, I'm looking for a little peace of mind this evening.  I'm worried.  My sister's been sick for going on half a year now.  I think it may be affecting her mental state.  A few years ago, my other sister, who suffered a very prolonged illness, ended up suffering a complete psychotic break.  My family's been through all this before, and it's starting to feel a little like deja vu.  Not a good way to start out the new year.

Of course, if my faith were a little stronger, I could simply trust that God will take care of my sister.  However, another of my character challenges is my insatiable desire for control.  I need to feel like I can fix what's broken.  Mend what's leaking.  Heal what's hurting.  It doesn't usually work out that well for me.   God has an annoying habit of reminding me that I'm just a passenger, not the pilot.

Saint Marty's going to have to take a seat by the wing tonight, strap on his seat belt, and wait for his complimentary drinks and pretzels.

Confessions of Saint Marty