Time passes and facts slip from my memory. To be honest, I’ve begun to notice that I forget many things. Thinking that I’m going to remember is a laugh. When it comes to important things — I’d better make a note. Especially when it involves money. Maybe that is why I am writing this BLOG!
This past weekend I was reminded of the path that I have walked and how much I have learned. Like a toddler learning — once you learn to walk, and begin to run, you forget how hard walking was.
I was attending a woman’s retreat sponsored by my youngest daughter’s church. It was not Catholic, but since I believe there is ONE GOD, I am comfortable there. The woman sitting next to me admitted she was a hermit. She wouldn’t have talked to me except I started the conversation. She was a widow of 12 years, wanting to have a man in her life again. She wanted to walk with Jesus, down a narrow road. She mentioned that she had pulled back on her activities, letting others be in charge. She seemed lonely.
I was reminded of the years when Mother Mary was always in my face. I have written about our skirmish in my book JOURNEY WITH ME — QUEEN OF HEAVEN. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do — but I RESISTED. I knew she was the MOTHER OF GOD, very Holy — I knew I could not be like her. But then our church had an Advent service, preparing for Christmas. The emphasis was on the Mother Of God, the leader who prepared the service had been in Israel — walked Mary’s path when she went to visit her cousin at the age of 16. She brought Mary to life, emphasizing her courage and determination. I realized that I might be able to be like her — a little bit. I had been very shy, not speaking to anyone unless they talked to me first. It has been YEARS since I have been a hermit. But time has passed — I’ve FORGOTTEN.
The next day, the woman was in my path again. I shared a couple of stories with her, suggesting that Jesus didn’t walk a narrow road, He was out and about, mingling with the people. Hopefully my stories helped her.
The closing words of the service referenced the Queen Of Sheba and King Solomon. Another nudge — remember!
Around that time when I was writing my first book, I attended a book signing by Janice T. Connell for her book Queen Of Angel’s. She told a story in which Janice was in Israel, at the location of the Last Supper. In the floor below, the tomb of Solomon was housed. A tall woman was very reverent at the tomb, Janice wished she shared the woman’s reverence but she wanted to go upstairs and was impatient at the delay. Some time later, Janice met Mother Mary who asked her if she recognized her at King Solomon’s tomb. When Janice replied that she didn’t and wished she could have shared Mary’s reverence, Mary told her she wasn’t Catholic, she was Jewish.
When the retreat ended, out of 800 women, I saw the woman again as we were leaving.