Postcard to the Edge

There have been many times in my life when I've wanted God to send me a postcard.  I say it all the time, half in jest:  Wouldn't it be nice if He'd just send a postcard?  I'd be happy to do whatever He asked, if He'd just put it down in black and white.

Then darned if it doesn't happen. He does it;  He sends the postcard.

And you wonder if you should never have asked.

But let me backtrack a bit so you'll understand the context of this past week's events and how postcards figure into it.   Dan and I love many things about living in the house we are in now.  The farm was where our little boys (the first four) grew up to be men for one thing, and many happy memories bounce around inside the walls of this house.  No less important to us has been living within easy driving distance of my extended family, and we cherish our parish church for the dear, old friends and the familiar faces we know and love.  But, we've never fallen out of love with our home on the Western Slope of Colorado.  It's a hard thing to explain because we only lived there for two and half years, but it's where our heart is.   We miss the daily parish life there, we miss the Sisters, we miss the friendly small-town atmosphere, we miss the snow-blanketed San Juans and the aspen-covered Grand Mesa...  We yearn to be there.  So, we started a novena to our intrepid, delightful, powerful-with-God saint, Philomena, asking for her intercession to help us get moved back over the mountains.  And, let me tell you, if you haven't ever asked St. Philomena for something and don't know it already -- well, just step back and watch her move when she has a mind to!  I mean: Put. On. Your. Seatbelts.

On the fifth day of the novena (incidentally, right after we changed the wording of our petition in a way we think she was willing to work with), St. Philomena woke me up in the morning with her signature knock, then sent us a nice neighbor who graded our driveway gratis, and a roofer who offered (and has worked out how) to roof our house and barn through our insurance company for free, as well. Great starts, we thought, to getting our house sold so we can make our move.  But that same day Dan also got the first hint that his job was in jeopardy.   We kept praying our novena every day after our rosary, though, and on the the ninth and last day we found out that Dan was probably going to lose his job. 

Ungh!  Punch-to-the-belly kind of postcard, that one.

We're still reeling.  You see, we thought we were some of the lucky ones.  We had it in our heads that Dan's was a recession-proof kind of job and that we could just bump along through the hard economic times, secure in a salary if nothing else.  So this was really unexpected.  And heart wrenching because there are disappointing circumstances surrounding the situation with Dan's job loss that are a cross and burden to our souls.  But we're ok with it all, because we have the absolute certainty that, perplexing and difficult as it is -- it's all part of some plan of St. Philomena's and God's. We're not sure how this is getting us over to the Western Slope...  but, to tell you the truth, we're not sure that's so important anymore.

Maybe that was the message?  We don't know. We're still going to hold  that move out there as a goal, but you know, it doesn't really matter. Being doubled over from a sucker punch gives you a chance to see your life from a whole new perspective.  A pretty humble one.   And we've found as we've straightened ourselves back up again that we may have had it coming.  We've been pretty complacent.  Pretty lazy.  Pretty status quo.  We needed and deserved the correction. 

And with that self-knowlege, we're moving forward with concrete resolutions to be harder working and better attuned to our priorities. Deep breath.  Moving forward.  Postcard received.

But God is so good.  He  didn't quit after the first stiff news and leave us hanging.  He's gone on to give us the most humbling and warming consolations all this last week -- in the same way, it seems, that a parent goes in to hug his child after he's had to punish him.  I have to say it again: God is so good.  After that first postcard, He's sent us a hundred additional ones -- unexpected words of comfort and advice from the most amazing places:  a sermon that spoke to the very heart of our spiritual struggles; a prayer to St. Joseph sent by a dear friend; a story that I read to the children by chance that could have been written as a warm hug just for us in this hard time; the gentle words of St.Francis deSales popping up everywhere and snuggling into our hearts as lessons and comfort; amazing signal graces, tangible hugs from Heaven, that have astounded and delighted us.  For every downturn, there have been at least as many upturns -- and hairpin turns and bighorn sheep in the road... Something like the Million Dollar Highway . We're only a few days into this, and it's already been quite the trip!

And, though I've learned a few good lessons so far in all of it,  the best thing I've figured out is this (and I'm speaking to myself here):  God's the cruise director.  He plans the itinerary.   You're the one who's supposed to be sending the post cards, ya dummy.