July 14: Filled with Peace, Reality Check, At Sea

Merton finds real peace of mind and heart . . . 

It was a late, cold afternoon. The frozen piles of snow lay along the swept sidewalks, in the gutters, in front of the small, one-story buildings on State Street. Presently Bob O’Brien, the plumber at the Olean house, who lived in Alleghany, and who used to fix the pipes when they went wrong up at the cottage, came by in his car. He stopped to give me a ride.

He was a big, jovial, family man, with white hair and several sons who served as altar boys at St. Bonaventure’s Church in Alleghany, and as we passed out of town on the wide road, he was talking about peaceful and ordinary things. 

The country opened out before us. The setting sun shone as bright as blood, along the tops of the hills, but the snow in the valleys and hollows was blue and even purple with shadows. On the left of the road, the antennae of the radio station stood up into the clean sky, and far ahead of us lay the red-brick buildings of the College, grouped in an imitation Italy in the midst of the alluvial valley. Beyond that, on the side of the hill were the redder buildings of St. Elizabeth’s convent, past the high bridge over the railroad tracks. 

My eyes opened and took all this in. And for the first time in my life I realized that I no longer cared whether I preserved my place in all this or lost it: whether I stayed here or went to the army. All that no longer mattered. It was in the hands of One Who loved me far better than I could ever love myself: and my heart was filled with peace. 

It was a peace that did not depend on houses, or jobs, or places, or times, or external conditions. It was a peace that time and material-created situations could never give. It was peace that the world could not give.

There are some times in your life when you experience what Merton is writing about in this passage.  A peace that has nothing to do with wealth or health, possessions or people.  A peace that doesn't come from anything the exists on this little rock of a planet.  

I apologize for my extended absence this last week.  My last few posts were certainly not about peace of mind or heart, that's for sure.  I allowed myself to become overwhelmed by certain aspects of my life.  Choices I didn't want to make, but also couldn't avoid.

Then, God stepped in.  Gave me a reality check.

My wife found a lump in her breast last Monday.  She had a doctor's appointment and a biopsy on Tuesday.  Wednesday, she spent the day in bed, nauseated with chills and a low-grade fever.  Thursday, she had a COVID test, even though she is fully vaccinated.  Friday morning at 2 a.m., she woke me up to take her to the local ER.  Her incision site was red and hot and hard.  The doctor diagnosed her with an infection and prescribed an antibiotic.  Friday, she was supposed to get the results of both the COVID test and the biopsy.  She got neither.  Saturday, she wasn't feeling better, and the infection looked as if it was spreading.  Back to the ER.

Finally, at about 5 p.m. on Saturday, we find out that she didn't have COVID and that her breast biopsy came back negative.  And she had a MRSA infection throughout her body.  She was admitted to the hospital Saturday evening and spent three days there on IV Vancomycin.  She was discharged yesterday and is recuperating at home, taking oral Bactrim and changing her dressings twice a day.

So, here I sit on my couch at almost midnight.  Everyone else in my house is asleep.  I'm tired after a full week of medical chaos.  I'd like to say that I've found the peace that Merton is talking about.  Peace that the world cannot give.  I haven't.  I'm still at sea about a lot of things.

However, there have been some blessings these last six or seven days, as well.  I spent a lot of time with my twelve-year-old son.  He wrote some poems.  Went to an Open Mic poetry night with me.  My daughter and I bonded over hating the ending of a movie called The Florida Project.  We had a family game night of Jeopardy.  And one particularly bad situation was completely avoided because of my wife's illness.

As I said, God put things into perspective.  Showed me who's really in charge.

And it ain't Saint Marty.  Perhaps there's some peace of mind in that.