"Let me hear of your loving-kindness in the morning,
for I put my trust in you;
show me the road that I must walk,
for I lift up my soul to you."
Psalm 143; OSH Breviary
Matins (morning prayer) is for me one of the more meaningful prayer times. We keep silence first thing in the morning. Even as I pass my sisters in the hallways, we don't speak. It is a discipline, a fasting from words and chatter, and it is broken first in prayer and praise. The very first words I've been speaking each day is "O God, open our lips; and our mouth shall proclaim your praise."
There's much I could say about this practice of silence and speech. But that will have to be saved for another day. Because this morning, while I prayed concerning my own lips to be opened, and for my own voice to work in praise of God, it was God who spoke. I heard God in the ears of my own soul.
I don't fully know how to explain it other than I knew. It was as if every cell in my body, every atom even was directed fully toward the Divine. We were praying from the psalter, and we reached Psalm 143. Something tugged at my heartstrings as I asked God to show me the way in which I should walk. And I didn't hear God's voice audibly, but I felt as if I had. I felt it in my core. Something in the pit of my stomach. It struck out just like a chord. Something beautiful and complex. Something I can't quite name took place in my heart. It was an "alignment." I saw clearly, if only for a millisecond.
"Walk the way of the cross."
I have been thinking all day about that. I prayed so fervently in the psalter to be shown the way that I am to walk. And the answer has returned to me. Now... what do make of the answer.
I'm still not sure, if I am being honest, what it means to walk the way of the cross. But one thing I do know is this: it includes living life with bipolar disorder.
I think a small, hopeful, and blissfully naive part of me believed that upon entering the convent I would be "okay." That I would never again have another manic swing or a depressive slump. That I would never again feel undue anxiety. That I would just generally be... well... normal. Whatever that means.
What I'm coming to realize is that "normal" life for me does include bipolar disorder. It includes swings in mood that I can sometimes name but never predict. It includes anxiety that ramps up for no apparent reason. It includes feeling depressed even when my world feels so good. It includes having my skin crawl with manic energy.
But perhaps it includes more than this.
Perhaps, when it comes to walking this way of the cross, it includes learning the art of letting go of my notion that I must "fix" me. Perhaps the way of the cross includes being able to hear another person's pain with ears that truly hear. Perhaps the way of the cross means growing in humility as others help me along this path. Perhaps the way of the cross means allowing myself the same grace that I extend so readily to others.
All these "perhaps" are just that. My own musings on what life could look like for me as I walk further into this journey with Christ. But maybe that's okay. Maybe the musings are the springboard God has been waiting for to see me into this next phase of life.
Speak, O God, for your servant is listening... I will follow.