A Day of Faith and Laughter

I wake up to Sunday in Santiago. I have three flat mates in a four bedroom flat that overlooks the train station. Two of my flat mates are a Spanish couple from Mallorca, Carmen and Gabriel. The other flat mate is Janet from Canada who teaches Spanish, so she is fluent. We have a nice kitchen, a living room with a dining area, and two bathrooms. It is quite comfortable. 

Yesterday I had a day off from work so I could go to mass and lunch with my friends, John and Stephen. John plays the organ and Stephen sings in the most beautiful tenor voice. If I didn't already believe in God, listening to Stephen sing would convince me that there was a God. The mass was in Spanish, of course, so I only understood about half of it. But, it was nice sitting still and looking at the church. 

After mass we had a two and a half hour lunch. There are no rushed meals in Spain. Sitting around the table were a Irish priest celebrating the 45th anniversary of his ordination, life long Scottish Catholic, a former priest, an Episcopal Deacon, a professor of theology, and me. It was like one of those  IQ tests where you are supposed to check the one that doesn't fit. lol 

They discussed Liberation Theology. I had no idea what that was. I was brave enough to asked, but didn't really get an answer. So, this morning I did a Google search and got an idea of what it is and I think I like the idea. If you don't know what it is, look it up. I don't want to color your understanding.  I spent my youth studying and writing papers about the religions of the world. I think I was searching for faith. I then drank myself into a state of sweet reasonableness and was graced with faith. It wasn't something I needed to earn or study, or even understand. It was a gift, unsolicited, unexpected and to this day almost 32 years later, unexplainable. 

We discussed Grace, which I do know something about. If you were a desperate wretch who was lifted from the depths of debauchery to a life of joy and service, you live in Grace. To it was and is a gift. I did not earn it. It certainly was not a reward for good behavior. I don't know if I can define it, but I know I received it. And, I continue to receive it, even when I'm too busy to notice or recognize it. 

It comes in moments as simple as having a random conversation with an articulate ten year old boy and realizing that I was present and open in the moment to have the conversation. At the same time knowing even five years ago, I wouldn't have taken the time.

It comes in moments of peace on a mountain top feeling the miracle of just being. 

It is the ability to share my experience with another woman and then watch her step into the sunlight of the spirit. Whether you call it Grace, or being present, it is a gift. 

It surrounds me all the time. When I am quiet I know it without thought or words. 

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound . . .