For months now, I think since last September or October, I’ve been doing a Holy Hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament every Saturday morning from midnight to one am. Early, early in the morning! It used to be that I was joined by a man, although the nature of a Holy Hour is that we never spoke except one night (morning?) when he waited for me to leave at 1 to tell me that he wouldn’t be there the next week. Since about Christmas or at least New Year’s he hasn’t been there so I’ve had Jesus all to myself, so to speak.

The first few weeks were wonderful, the first one, especially. I felt such a peace that I didn’t want to leave. It’s really a matter of faith to believe that the fairly large circle of flat, dry bread is Our Lord, but when you do believe it’s amazing. I have spent time just staring and trying to wrap my mind around the idea that the Creator of the Universe has allowed Himself to be “trapped” in the monstrance so I can be with Him and not die. He is there even when my 1 am replacement doesn’t show up, which he hasn’t in months (since May or so) and no one comes to be with Him until around 4 or 5 am. Our Lord Jesus lets Himself be set into the tabernacle until someone comes to sit with Him.

Lately — I want to say since I found out that my aunt is dying of cancer (I made her a cancer sampler you can see at my other blog – but I can’t be positive — I’ve felt nothing when I go into the Adoration Chapel. Oh, I KNOW Jesus is still there, I know all that stuff that I knew before, but there isn’t anything emotional there. I feel like going there is just time alone and often it’s a chore because of the time I go. I often would rather just go to bed.

Now I know that the emotions aren’t necessary. I’m not one of those people who have to have an emotional response to mass or prayer to know or believe I’m saved or heard or whatever. However, I am a woman, and by definition, an emotional creature.

For the past two months we’ve been having some financial struggles. Nothing majorly big or requiring legal intervention, but big enough to cause some discomfort and worry. Especially by me. I hold a “tape” of a conversation I had with my father when I was in college in my head and it plays whenever financial stuff comes up. My father told me I was irresponsible with money.

Now that was over 20 years ago and things have changed a lot, but I worry because I know that I love to get new stuff for my hobbies and my interests. When I look back over the past two months I haven’t been bad or extravagant so if I’m reasonable, I know this isn’t my fault. It’s just the way life is sometimes.

Anyway, I’ve been having a tough time turning our finances over to God, even though I know He has better plans than I do and He’ll take care of us. It’s a whole emotion thing, you understand? I worry. I worry about how we’ll make it when my husband says our debt is increasing several hundred dollars a WEEK! I worry that I’m not really contributing anything as I don’t even have any books out there looking for a buyer. I worry because even the books I have published don’t generate enough in royalties to pay for one meal at McDonalds! So, instead of letting go of these things, I fret about them, even when I’m on my knees in front of the Blessed Sacrament asking for His help. My mind starts trying to come up with a solution.

I know that’s me trying to do it myself and that never works, but all this worry and depression has led to a siuation where I don’t even feel like God is able to hear me. I know it’s me whose moved, but try as I might I can’t find Him again. I sit in Mass and struggle to let His word penetrate my heart, but my 4 year old son is dropping Cheerios and singing to the Stations on the wall and turning around to watch the other parishoners, and not much of the word is getting to me.

I talked and cried to my husband about this last night. I told him I feel like parched earth and it’s going to take a soaking rain to soften up my heart and soul, I fear. He told me that all great saints have gone through this and it always means that person was making great spiritual progress.

Okay, as nutty as that sounds (I mean, feeling like you can’t get to God no matter how you crawl and cry and fight means spiritual progress???), the only thing to do is keep on keeping on. I’ve started praying a rosary again before I go to bed and trying to read the Psalms every day. I know it’s not a lot, but I also know that if I give myself a bigger assignment of prayers or devotions, I’ll give up.

So for now, while not believing in any way I’m headed for great sainthood or possibly even sainthood at all, I’m waiting for and believing in the “better” to come.