Monday, September 07, 2015
Saturday I had enough of a voice to celebrate the sacrament of reconciliation. My sins creep up slowly, too, until I realize that my heart is narrowed and cramped with all that I cannot exorcise. The celebration of the sacrament, my breath pushing hard, to get out what I've done or failed to do. Absolution falls around my shoulders, I breathe in mercy. It's a small miracle.
For years, I've thought about this wisdom story and wondered if I want God as much as I want air. For the moment I can say this, I grasp a bit more deeply what mercy feels like, the easing of a soul constricted and miserly, sipping when it could drink deeply. And I know that I long for mercy, as surely as I do for air.