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Open My Inner Ear

Open My Inner Ear

 
By:  Amazing Nation Guest Writer January 11, 2021
#AmazingNation, #Faith, #God, #Jesus, #love, #Strength

Last Friday, I had the alluring prospect of the afternoon to myself. After weeks of pushing myself, I was coming to the end of the work week feeling drained, so some hours to rest and let go were precious indeed. But then my husband came home from work in the middle of the week, fuming about a change in work plans, necessitating him to attend a long meeting in the city on Friday afternoon.

Immediately, I found myself asking him if I could tag along. Given what the weeks had been, especially that week, I did wonder inside of me, if I was mad. Mad to forgo physical rest. Mad to endure that long drive to the city and the likelihood of traffic snarls.

Yet, there was no doubt in my mind. I wanted to go with my husband and while he was at his meeting, but I also wanted to be in church. I had gone so long without being before the Blessed Sacrament. Jesus had sustained me all this while and would continue to, I knew, but this Friday, after giving so much of myself to others, I wanted to give my Jesus an offering of myself. I wanted to be before Him and to console him by my presence and the offering of my heart, however tattered it was.

My husband readily agreed. Over the two days or so till Friday came, I sensed a change come over me. Something began trickling into my heart. A cool stream of some kind of water, mystical and mysterious. As it tumbled and slipped into the gullies and crevices, my tiredness and tensions yielded unprotestingly to that water. I thus came to Friday, happy and light. Happier than I had been in a long while.

In my happiness, I told Jesus that He was not to be silent with me. It had been so long since I had been in church and I wanted Him to speak and speak to me all the hours I was before Him.

Then I spoke of my wish, Open my inner ear. I didn’t just want to hear things; I wanted Jesus to speak to me through the ear of my heart.

When Friday morning came, readying for work, I felt that skip of joy inside me, and again, wondered at it. Is it because I’m coming to see You? I suddenly asked. That I chose hours in a simple seat inside a still and empty church instead of an afternoon of deserved rest?
A tiny sprite of words formed in reply,

My little adorer
I keeled away from Your Name. I did not deserve it. All I was, was a mess of a person. One who slipped and tripped and fell more often than she walked upright, clearsighted and steady of heart. Never was this more evident than this October. It was an October of farewells and a change to life, and one of hoping and of hopes being dashed. One of a reigniting of old fires in our marriage, nefarious fires that had no business coming back to life.

Adorer
For close to three hours in church that day, over and over.
I left church later that day, tired, but with an inner quiet missing for so long. That Friday led to four more incredibly hectic days. My step slowed and I labored to get through each day.
But that sweet, cool brook within tripped and skipped on, catching the rays of an invisible sun with every turn and bubble.

Today, I was home on sick leave. As is my practice, I fight illness with work. Managing to put dinner together, I left the kitchen after some minutes of listening to my husband venting about a mess at work. A sudden weakness had come over me and I needed to sit down. But I also wanted to get away from my husband’s anger and frustrations over work.

I had barely sat down and begun scrolling through the posts on a forum, when it occurred to me that I was giving my time to other people instead of being with my tired husband. That thought had not fully rolled itself out when these words formed.


Carry His cross.
They were not my thoughts. They were from somewhere else. From within me, but not of me. I know it because I did not delay, trying to hedge out of what was needed. Instead, in an immediate obedience, and pretty much foreign to me, I went to my husband and let him know he had my ear once more.

I knew then whose Voice it was that I was hearing, that quiet bloom of words within me. I understood the difference between the talking to I often give myself, and this other Voice. When it is from me, often there is a struggle to comply. But when it is my Master’s, it straightens my soul to willing obedience and to genuine humility.

Open my inner ear. My prayer had been heard.
Taken from Writing on My Heart, by Caitlynnegrace

Photo Credits:
https://unsplash.com/photos/SIZ66vF4FKA
https://unsplash.com/photos/7oJ3O6pk10s
https://unsplash.com/photos/QsTGgW6RoLI
https://unsplash.com/photos/ijpm8CnlUGQ
https://unsplash.com/photos/IS7WfX_f_ug



About the Author Amazing Nation Guest WriterAmazing Nation Guest Writers have submitted their blogs to us in hopes of encouraging others who may have had similar life experiences. They want to share hope and wisdom with every person who read their blogs.  


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