Mother Teresa and I

The death of Mother Teresa in 1997 touched a lot of people across the globe. The wrinkled old nun who worked in the slums of Calcutta inspired a lot of people. She seemed to exude the very essence of spirituality, peace, and connectedness to God. Winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, she taught by gentle example how people should treat each other. People across the globe, Catholic and non-Catholic, were inspired by her example, even as she remained humble about her work. It was unsurprising, therefore, how fast the Roman Catholic Church moved to beatify her and even less surprising at how many people are working for her canonization.

All of this made the revelation of her personal letters, many of which articulated a profound "spiritual darkness" and feeling disconnected from God very surprising to a lot of people. How could Mother Teresa, of all people, feel that God was ignoring her? If anybody in the last century had lived life in the path of Christ, it was Mother Teresa. If Mother Teresa felt this way, what hope is there for the rest of us?

I've never particularly felt as though Mother Teresa and I had much in common, apart from being Catholic that is. I don't work with the poor and I've never taken a vow of poverty. I certainly don't have her calm, gentle demeanor, or seemingly infinite patience. I don't think you could examine the globe and find two women more different.

But lately, I feel very connected to Mother Teresa. For most of my adult life, I would describe myself as being pretty spiritual. I found a great connectedness to my faith and God when I was in college with the Franciscan order. My faith got me through the death of my mother, the deaths of my grandparents, and a 15-month separation from The Hubby. Whenever I've alone or afraid, it's been a rock I can lean on.

Lately, the rock isn't so strong. In fact, doesn't seem to be there at all. I feel sort of lost and disconnected from the very thing I've relied on to keep me grounded. And it's not fun. It's also very disturbing. I feel like a piece of driftwood floating down whitewater, swirling around and bumping off the rocks. A boat with no anchor. Yes, that's a few mixed metaphors. Cut me a break.

Frankly, I'm kind of angry about it. I rarely ask for anything for myself. I've prayed for my family, friends, friends of friends, and people I've never met. I volunteer at my kids' school, with The Girl's Scout troop, and our parish festival. I've participated in food drives and book drives, and every other kind of drive.

None of this is meant to say "Look at me" or toot my own horn. Lots of other people do exactly the same things, and even more. The point is it's not as though I go through life only concerned about myself. I don't even expect payback. I do all this stuff because I really want to do it. It makes me feel good, and it many cases it's even fun.

I would think, however, that when I do ask for something I deserve at least a response. Six weeks after being diagnosed with vertigo (Stop the World), I'm still dizzy. Not so much, now I can actually drive, but walking a straight line can still be a challenge. For the past week, I've had bouts of double vision (talk about something that is very disorienting). All I want is to go back to being able to play soccer with my kids and read them a story at bed time. That's it. I don't want to be able to run a marathon, or some other stupid thing. I just want some parts of my life that I really enjoyed to come back.

I've prayed pretty consistently over the past six weeks - to God, to Christ, to every saint I can think of, even to my own mother. As I'm stuck in this rut of dizziness and double images, I can only say I don't appear to be getting a response. Yeah, I know. The response you want isn't always the one you get. But I don't even get the sense that anybody is listening. As I told someone earlier today, "God appears to be too busy for me."

I've got well-intentioned friends, some religious and some not, who'd say I am overreacting. My own brother has referred to "my imaginary friend." I suppose to them this may seem like a lot of fuss over nothing, but for me it's quite real. And I'm hurt, and angry, and spiritually alone. It sucks.

Traditional wisdom in these matters says I have to stop fighting things and put it in God's hands. I've tried that - at least I think I have. What else does "God please help me" mean? I'm quite familiar with the concept that God doesn't give us what we can't handle, but is He trying to break me here? Because if so, I'm feeling pretty broken. Feeling whole would be really good right now.

Mother Teresa felt the same way, I guess. She somehow managed to keep going. Maybe she was stronger than I am. I don't know. I do know I could use a bone here, something small just to let me know I'm not all alone. Let's say we start small - I'll stay dizzy if I could just see straight.

Yeah, I know. God's not a deal maker. Maybe I just need to read copies of those letters. You know coin a new phrase - What Would Mother Teresa Do?