Friday, February 10, 2012

Uncle!

I picked a time for Adoration for which no one else had committed.  Suddenly, lots of folks started showing up for "my" Holy Hour, some of them not so quiet.   I spoke to the nun who coordinates the schedule for the chapel and asked what other times are not covered.  10pm was available, so she agreed to let me switch.  Well, guess what?  The folks who were coming earlier are now coming later, with me.

Last week, one of the gentleman sat sideways in the pew directly in front of me, so I could not look at the monstrance without seeing this man's face.  And then, he turned around and started talking to me.  I was ready to scream.

If you want me to cry "uncle" Dear Lord, I am!

Maybe this is God's way of telling me I deserve Purgatory, but in His Mercy, He's letting me have it now.

UPDATE

I had the chapel to myself last night, except for  a couple who stopped in briefly and were very quiet.  What a lovely thing for a couple to do together late on a Friday evening, stop in for a few quiet moments of adoration together.

There is no quiet in my house.  I am married to a drummer, for one thing, and for another, he is one of those people who must always have music or television in the background.  And because of that Y chromosome he was endowed with, whatever he listens to or watches must be turned up to 96 decibels.   Sometimes, I go upstairs to pray because it's not always feasible to get to a chapel, and it's impossible to escape the noise.  I plead for silence, and no matter where I go, I can't go any.

Lately, Mr. Little Way has taken to a particularly grating habit of practicing on his drum pad (which is like listening to water drip very quickly and repeatedly) WHILE he watches the auto auction on the Speed Channel.  Can you imagine having to listen simultaneously to an auctioneer's voice AND water dripping?

I tell you, God is doing everything in His Power to get me to Heaven, making sure I do my time in Purgatory while still on earth.

That's why it's so wonderful when I can have the chapel either to myself or be able to share it with like-minded people who can observe the rule of silence when in the Divine Presence.

That's all.


4 comments:

  1. Oh, gosh, Joyce, that's awful!
    I wish I could offer you one of the many openings we currently have at our Perpetual Adoration chapel. It'd be interesting to see if they'd show up at 3am!
    (A lot of our late-night slots are held by nurses, by the way.)
    We had to resort to posting a sign in the chapel that prohibited unnecessary conversation. Oddly enough, I've noticed that it's the men that tend to be chatterboxes.
    Then there's the parish custodian, who is apt to show up at any time with the world's loudest vacuum cleaner to clean up the salt tracked in from the icy sidewalk. It sounds like the machine is pulverizing gravel, or he's running one of those toddler "corn-popper" push toys. Oy.
    I always try to sit as close to the front as possible. It seems to be easier to ignore the turbulence if it's going on behind you.
    I'm sure Our Lord knows how much this bothers you and loves that you continue anyway.

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  2. Wow Julie, is your chapel anywhere near Phila? I might consider your offer. It is the same here, it's the men who do the yakking. Plus, I hate to be so cynical, but the one big offender lives around the corner from me and I worry that he's watching me to see what time I'm going, not for nefarious reasons but because he doesn't like to be in the chapel alone. I guess there is a double benefit, if that's the case - to help him in his loneliness and the Lord in His.
    Thanks for the comment :)
    Joyce

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  3. Yeah, too bad New Freedom is 2 and 1/2 hours away. :(
    However, for ten years we had a woman who drove from the other side of Baltimore-an hour's drive- EVERY Saturday night for the 2am hour. Amazing...

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  4. LOL, I've got that same Y chromosome and my wife hates the volume I keep things at. Apparently you are very sensitive to noise Joyce. I've heard you comment on it repeatedly. Are you sure you grew up in an Italian family? Italian families are not known for being as quiet as mice. ;)

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