pokarekare ana

The people in darkness have seen a great light...
- Is 9:2

Last night I drove to SFO over the San Rafael Bridge then over Golden Gate Bridge because the Bay Bridge is currently down for repair. As I approached the Golden Gate, traffic was heavier than I've ever seen it. It literally took me twelve minutes to go across the span - twelve minutes which remain to me until now. The setting: sunset. The sky was a turning a deep pink. To my left I could see the city lights just turning on and the dark bay. To my right I could see the sun setting over a thick bank of fog. I drove over the bridge and saw the two massive cables rise on either side of me. It was as if the bridge's cables were like two giant arms outstretched to embrace me.

Suddenly I flashed back a few years ago. I remember when me and my four other classmates were asked, "Are you ready to open your arms to others as Jesus opened his arms on the cross for you?" We replied in unison, "We are, with the help of God."

I thought about that just at that moment. I couldn't hold back the tears. I wept openly as people drove in their lanes. I can't describe what happen. But I have made peace with God. I could feel it, know it, and "be" with it.

I've been going through a pretty dark period in my spiritual life. There have been times where I haven't loved as I was supposed to. Thoughts creeped in there that shouldn't have. In short, I failed to live up to my promise. At times I didn't know what was going on and everything was a blur. A darkness came onto me and took away my vision. Things looked pretty bleak. The weird thing is that I didn't tell anybody about this, save one person. Some knew something was going on but I kept it inside. The last time I told a group of friends about my spiritual crisis they got really concerned. There was no need to worry this time, though I was in a profound spiritual privation. That changed last night, as I have said. I can feel the grace within me again. Everywhere I see I see the presence of God. It is as if the fog has been lifted, as if the light has come to shine in the darkness. I've come to trust, to let go, to love more freely.

Today I went to Mass for the first time in a long time. I had stayed away because I was quite angry with God, the Church, and myself. But today I couldn't help but feel so energized as I approached our Risen Lord in the Eucharist. He abides in me as I abide in him. So what does this imply on a practical level? Well, I should return to being more "me". It's not that I've had a mask on. But I have purposely kept my self away from most people.

If there is one thing I like about myself it is my sense of hope. I usually describe it as optimism around people who will react more positively to that word but what I really mean is hope. Hope is seeing the light when nobody else sees it. Hope is looking for the good in others even if they don't appear to be good. Hope is loving fully and completely, even if that isn't reciprocated. And above all, hope is one of those things which propagate from person to person. When you're around a person who has hope you can't help but somehow feel hopeful too, even if just for a little bit. I can admit that some of my hope was dormant over the past few weeks, but it is back again, stronger than ever.

So back to the original question: Am I ready to open my arms to others as Jesus opened his arms on the cross for me? If opening my arms to others means that I will accept people for who they are although they could care less about me, if opening my arms means loving more unconditionally, if it means to see with eyes anew, to embrace without fear of being hurt - in short, to love fully as a Christian, then yes, I am ready to begin again. I don't anticipate being perfect. Nobody ever is. But what is divine about second chances - or third chances all the way to hundreth chances - is an undying hope in the other. A friend, a family member, an acquaintence - all children of God who will hurt and be hurt. That is certainly no excuse to give up.

Yes, to live in the virtue of true hope: that is my vocation.