Spiritual goobers

Dear Pope Francis,

We need to talk about my goobers.

When I say goobers I mean all the things that seem to plug up the path between me and God. I have an awful cold right now, so you’ll just have to forgive my choice of metaphor.

Sometimes, the path is really runny. There’s nothing solid in it, it’s just a constant drip of little distractions, like my habit of playing games on my phone (mostly broken), or of reading just one more article or blog post.

Other times, the path is a little runny and kind of chunky. Those medium sized goobers are the old hurts I decide to pick at again, the times when I don’t help others as much as I should, and the times when I lash out at people around me with harsh words instead of blowing my nose first and leaving the tissue with God.

Then there’s the big goobers. The ones that make my whole soul just feel stuffed up and clogged and no matter how hard I try I just can’t seem to blow them out. One of the big goobers for me used to be honesty. Over the course of my prayer this lent, the goober I keep coming back to is chastity.

It’s something I’ve struggled with a lot over the years. I’m not going to go in to much detail because a) private, but mostly b) I found out my Dad reads these (which is not a bad thing.) Suffice it to say, my understanding of chastity and my requirements for me to consider myself chaste have changed pretty radically over the last five years, and even more over the last five weeks days.

I try to go to mass every week but I do miss the occasional Sunday due to bad weather, like snowstorms from the winter that just won’t leave. Unlike most of the Catholics I’ve met in recent years however, I’ve never made a regular habit of going to confession. I’ve generally fallen in to the “once a year, if that” category for the sacrament of reconciliation.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how if I really want to get rid of this huge goober keeping me plugged up and contributing to the ever flowing river of small and medium goobers, I should probably do more than just try to make my actions match the lifestyle I want to be a good example of. Going to confession and possibly maybe even making a more regular habit of it feels suspiciously like the spiritual equivalent of watching Frozen on repeat while drinking honey lemon tea and blowing my nose.

olaf sneezesWhat kind of goobers do you find plugging your path to God?

Putting the kettle on,

Meredith

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