The Seer

“Seeing things clearly isn’t always an advantage.”

Mary Magdalene entered The Church just before sunrise.  The stone building held the damp of night in its walls.  She moved quickly as she lit the candles, leaving a trail of light along the sides of the pews.  Before the altar, she bowed, crossed herself and went behind the pulpit to light the fire that would warm the entire building. 

She treasured this silent hour before service; before the building filled up with people and wants and needs.  It allowed her time to gather her thoughts and sort through her visions.  It took her years to learn the difference between her own thoughts and those of others; now she went to great lengths to maintain regular solitude.  It was for everyone’s benefit, really. 

Most mistook her seclusion for personal rejection.  Serving The Gift demanded isolation; how could prayerful people not understand this? 

“Self-absorbed to a fault.”  The words slipped out as her thoughts swirled around the people who were going to arrive soon.  She checked herself, shaking her head slightly.  She knew enough about human nature to understand her criticism was toward herself.  With a heavy sigh, she turned back to her task of providing light and warmth for The Church’s body.

Her reverie turned to her current vision, the one of The Truth.  It was so big she could only write a little bit before her eyes changed and her temples throbbed.  How was she going to get it all out in time?  How was she going to get it out at all?

She learned the necessity of tempering her messages -- often many times over – so the Words of Truth did not get lost in the emotion of circumstance.  Still, many people wasted time and opportunity reacting to their feelings and missing The Truth.  Still, many people shot The Messenger. 

Mary Magdalene wearied over the unfounded accusations people regularly hurled at her.  How could they not understand she loved them?  She loved them so much she risked her heart over and over again by providing them with what they said they desperately wanted:  The Truth.  Yes, it hurt…didn’t they realize it hurt her to see it?

Another heavy sigh and The Church was lit and warm.  Before leaving the sanctuary, she turned to The Cross. 

“Forgive them first, Master,” she said aloud, “and then forgive me.  We know not what we’ve done.  Or do.”.  

Half-time

How much worse can it get?

Halfway through Lent, pressing on toward The Light despite the darkness that keeps threatening to envelope me, I pause to reflect on my progress.

On the one hand, I wonder what in the HELL I was thinking when I decided to finally open my heart’s Pandora’s Box and resolve my issues.  There is no way I could’ve imagined what I’d find there.  I am so unprepared for the fallout:  Becoming dead inside rather than endure one more heart-numbing disclosure or realization or truth or circumstance seems like my only option.

On the other hand, experience tells me there is something wonderful waiting for me at the end of all this if only if I just keep moving.  My innate tendency is to stagnate in the worst of places – believing that’s what I deserve -- and, by God, I am NOT going to do that anymore.  I’m halfway out of The Vagina of Crap and I will NOT be strangled by my own vagina (or crap).

All of that double-talk I grew up with (“You’re only pretty when you’re sleeping.”  “I love you but I really don’t like you.”  “You may be smart but you are impossible to live with.” “No one will ever love you the way I do.”) is so so ingrained I despair over ever being able to re-program my brain.

I am DETERMINED not to run an outdated program that wasn’t intended to be loaded in the first place.  Re-programming my heart, however…that’s an entirely different story.  It never entered my mind that I would get push back from people I once considered Beloveds.  NO ONE is going to emotionally manipulate me; I don’t care WHO pulls the strings.  And yet my strings keep getting pulled and I am weak from cutting them.  I feel like a newborn fawn trying standing up for the first time.

I may very well be “difficult.”  However, I will NOT dim my emerging light because someone else gets blinded by his or her own rage, anger, insecurity, and/or jealousy.  I’ve got my own to burn off.

L’Chaim!

Heretic

Just before dawn, Mary Magdalene awoke with a start.  She sat up quickly and reached for her shawl.  She tried to shake her dream out of her vision as she wrapped herself in red wool.  She lit the candle on the bedside table and stared for a moment at the clay tablet that lie next to the candlestick.  She read the words in disbelief.

Her reverie was broken by a loud rap at the door. 

“Mary Magdalene!”  The voice on the other side of the door commanded.  “Come out here immediately!”

Instinctively, she put the tablet underneath the bedding.  “One moment,” she said firmly.

In a moment, she was out in the hall with the cell door closed behind her. 

“Yes?”

“The Elders want to see you.  They have some questions for you.”  The Guard spat out the words as if they were rancid.

He grabbed her and turned her around with such force she lost her breath.  He put the shackles on and whipped her back around to face him.  His dark eyes flickered as he looked her over.

“A witch like you needs containing,” he said huskily.

She inhaled deeply as she kept The Guard’s eyes in her gaze. 

“One day you will need me,” she spoke slowly, her tone even.  “And when you do, I pray I am more gracious.” 

The malevolence in The Guard’s laugh made her shudder as he dragged her down the hallway.