Question 38

So, I’m sitting here in Oshkosh waiting for Luke Spehar to start singing.  Have you ever had a favorite musician that’s so good that you just felt as if God was speaking directly to you when they sing?  Well, that’s how I feel with this kid.  I wasn't such a fan of his music until I heard him perform live, especially when he sang “To St. Michael.”   I recorded that on a dinky flip camera, and I was so ecstatic that I could barely contain myself.  You all know how much I LOVE St. Michael.  This version of St. Michael is substantially better; I recorded it on my 16 mp digital SLR.  I actually recorded these and ripped the audio because I couldn't wait for the CD.  It's so much better, faster, and more passionate live.  I instantly fell in love.  The man sings so resplendently that I could listen to him sing forever.  He sings the Truth. 

Truth Truth Truth.  Everything is about Truth lately.  And it should be.  Nothing.  NO THING is better than the Truth, no matter what the hell that pansy,Batman, says. (Superman totally trumps Batman, BTW.)

Ever play “Bible Bingo”?  It’s basically where you pray to the Holy Spirit and just open up scripture to see what God has “to say” to you.  I don’t really recommend it for daily use.  The one time I did do it, it was completely, utterly, and miraculously profound.  

Now, this took place  way back in aught six.  I started having chest pains like I was having a heart attack and I could barely inhale, so grabbed my Bible and rosary, and wound up at the doctor’s office for a chest x-ray.  The doctor looked at me and told me that I either had too much water around my heart (pericardial effusion) or that I had an enlarged heart, which would lead to heart failure (and DEATH).  When he said, “heart failure,” I started praying Hail Marys in my head.  All I could think about was “I’m 23, I’m 23, I’m 23.  I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.  I haven’t done anything yet.  I’m 23, and I’m gonna die.”  Ever been in that kind of situation?  HIGHLY DISCONCERTING.  Well, thank God I grabbed my Bible before I walked out the door, because as I was waiting in the lobby all by myself, my brain took off with the tenacity of a jackhammer, and all I could think about is, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.”  So, I unzipped the cover of my Bible and prayed, “God, what’s going on here?!  I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.  Tell me.  I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.” 

I closed my eyes, opened my Bible, fanned through the pages, stopped, and pointed my index finger blindly on the page.  I opened my eyes and scanned the top of the page for the name/chapter of the book: Tobit 7 (one I hadn’t read yet and knew nothing about).  My finger was pointing directly to the number for verse 17, which read: 

“Be brave, my daughter. 
May the Lord of Heaven grant you joy in place of your grief. 
Courage, my daughter.” 

There is a God, and in the midst of the fear, panic, and anxiety in that waiting room, He silenced it all and prepared me with three sentences, the language of which is repeated NOWHERE else in the Bible.  He put the armor on me (Ephesians 6:10-20).  I was ready to go.  I immediately thought, “Dude.  It’s all good.  If you want me to come to You, I am NOT AFRAID.  Let’s do this.  I am ready.”  Immediate peace.

For all you doctors out there (wink!), it turned out that I did indeed have a pericardial effusion, but I also had a pleural effusion and pneumonia.  We also discovered that I’m anemic.  This was all due to an unchecked, un-diagnosed, and untreated hypothyroid.  Outside these particular problems, I had another “heart condition” on top of it (I had to see cardiologists and was on a floor of the hospital surrounded by people who were at least three to four times my age).  The unfortunate thing was that the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.  They tested me for cancer, lupus, AIDS, everything.  They took bone marrow out of me.  That was the single most excruciating thing I've ever experienced (One of the nurses offered to hold my hand, the poor girl!).  They also had to drain the fluid out of my lungs, a pain only second to drawing bone marrow.  And, it was like a liter full of liquid that looked like ale (which somewhat explains my aversion to amber-colored beer).  Ack!  I was in the hospital for nine days, and I was pretty close to death.  I received anointing of the sick and everything. But it was all good.  I was at peace.  I read the book of Job and was grateful that I had legs that functioned, as others weren't as fortunate.

The subsequent years have been interesting.  I've seen a cardiologist who says that I’m a miracle.  There is no name for whatever is wrong with me, and he doesn't know what it is.  All I know is that I’m anemic, I have hypothyroid, and I have to maintain a low-sodium diet.  I can work-out and live a normal life, but if I have a “flare up,” and I do, about every 4-6 months, I have to take it easy and pound my system with acetaminophen.  Don’t the effects of original sin just suck!?

Since this entire episode, I've been a lot more careful with guarding my heart, metaphorically as well as literally. 

Ever had your heart broken?  You get this sick, disgusting feeling in your stomach.  You can’t get comfy or relax.  Your heart beats a bazillion miles an hour, hastily attempting to repair itself, and your brain won’t.  shut.  up.  I've had my heart broken twice (well, romantic relationship-wise, anyways).  The first time turned me into an angry pro-abortion, man-hating femi-nazi.  The second, well... that time was the antithesis of the first.  It prepared me for sainthood more than anything.  Last October, after having spent some time in Chicago with a man I was ready to marry, things went very, very wrong.  Things exploded.  His intentions, which were unclear from the beginning, suddenly turned crystal.  As a result of these muddied intentions, my heart was left unguarded.  So, of course, she was battered.  The last eight hours I spent in Chicago were some of the most agonizing in my life.  Providentially, I had the first volume of The Summa with me.  I was reading it off and on all night between knitting because I was so jarred that I couldn't sleep. 

MY WRITING IS SO TRALFAMADORIAN TODAY!  GAH!  My apologies, gentle reader.  But, if I learned anything whilst obtaining my English degree (hah!), it’s that if something doesn't make sense the first time, read it again.  And again.  And again.  And again.  Take your time.

Anyways, I used this same concept of Bible Bingo with The Summa.  Tears flooded my burning-ember cheeks while a steady stream of drippy snot washed out my nose.  Boy, that’s attractive.  I’m not so pretty to behold when I’m disconsolate. I prayed to the Holy Spirit, flipped the sucker open, and landed on this:

Question 38: Of the Remedies of Sorrow or Pain.

Second Article: Whether Pain or Sorrow Is Assuaged by Tears?

I answer that, Tears and groans naturally assuage sorrow: and this for two reasons.  First, because a hurtful thing hurts yet more if we keep it shut up, because the soul is more intent on it: whereas if it be allowed to escape, the soul’s intention is dispersed as it were on outward things, so that the inward sorrow is lessened.  This is why when men, burdened with sorrow, make outward show of their sorrow, by tears, or groans, or even by words, their sorrow is assuaged.—Secondly, because an action, that befits a man according to his actual disposition, is always pleasant to him.  Now tears and groans are actions befitting a man who is in sorrow or pain; and consequently they become pleasant to him.  Since then, as stated above (Article 1), every pleasure assuages sorrow or pain somewhat, it follows that sorrow is assuaged by weeping and groans.

Fourth Article: Whether Pain and Sorrow Are Assuaged by the Contemplation of Truth?

I answer that, As stated above (Question 3, article 5), the greatest of all pleasures consists in the contemplation of truth.  Now every pleasure assuages pain as stated above (Article 1): hence the contemplation of truth assuages pain or sorrow, and the more so, the more perfectly one is a lover of wisdom. 

It’s at times like these when I know and believe, without a doubt, that there is, in fact, a God, He is Truth, and He does speak directly to me on occasion, as do His saints.  I don’t do this exercise in a half-hearted fashion.  I've only done it twice, I believe, with purity of heart, right intention, and a desperate desire to communicate with God.  The other times I attempted have been shallow or disinterested.  But, at two points in my life when I sincerely cried out to my Daddy, He was there to catch my tears and hold me (Revelation 7:17 and 21:4). If only I cried out to Him with such desperation all the time in my prayer.  Alas, I suck at life. 

Regardless, He is the jealous, vigilant, True guardian of my heart.  Heartbreak will inevitably happen, but with affirmations like these, I know that I have the best Surgeon in the OR who can cleave and mend my heart any time He wants, because He knows exactly what He’s doing.