Earlier this summer I had the honor and privilege of attending the National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis. My company, Decided Excellence Catholic Media, was a sponsor and we had a booth in the exhibition hall. I was itching to go simply to get out of the 100-degree Houston weather. Hurricane Beryl had just blown through and knocked out and uprooted hundreds of trees in my area, causing an immense amount of destruction and downed power lines which meant no electricity for weeks. Escaping to another, cooler, less humid state was a dream, merely for the free air conditioning.
Upon arriving I was in awe of the lines and lines of people waiting to enter the convention center, priests, brothers, nuns and sisters interwoven within the line. Thousands of Catholics eager to come together as a united body with the hopes of being fed spiritually with the Eucharist.
For the opening ceremonies our group sat levels above the main floor in Colts Stadium. The magnitude of the amount of people, all presumably Catholic, was both invigorating and awe inspiring. The lights dimmed and Jesus, in the Eucharist, was led to the middle of the stadium for adoration. How best to begin?
After adoration my eyelids betrayed me. I was exhausted. Working in stressful conditions along with the other unfortunate circumstances of wrecking my car a few days before Hurricane Beryl hit had depleted my resolve and I had to call it a night. I took an Uber to our AirBNB and went to settle in for the evening. Only to find that the air conditioning did not necessarily cool the upstairs as well as the downstairs, nor did the fan in my room work. Sticky with sweat and irritated I complained to my coworker roommates, and reluctantly let it go. It wasn’t as bad as the condition I came from so I would just deal with it.
I need confession, I thought to myself as I lay in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to fall asleep. My mind raced with frustrations and grievances, and I knew I was not myself. Life had me in my own situational hurricane and I wanted someone else to pull me out.
The next morning, the first chance I was given, before I could speak to another soul and harm them in some way with my snappy comebacks, I found the area for reconciliation. Not even a minute passed by that I sat next to the priest and the tears began to flow. Pouring out my heart with all its hurts and pains, I confessed my behaviors and sins, knowing full well I had come against the Lord on various occasions, and I didn’t want to be that person or be stuck in the quicksand of blame.
The priest nodded as I cried and when I gave him a moment to finally speak, he had me envision the scenario of being in a boat with Jesus in these raging waters. Life was the storm in the water, and as I am being tossed around in the boat, Jesus is in the boat with me. My penance was to sit in adoration and have a conversation with Jesus while in the boat.
I wiped my eyes, received absolution and went straight to adoration. As I sat before the Lord, I envisioned again the boat in the raging waters and I could feel myself being knocked down every chance I tried to stand, and when I did get my bearings then my stomach did flips because I was sick from the motion. I felt Jesus beside me, reaching out to steady me, and I told him how sick I was from the constant badgering of the waves of conflict. Tears mixed with the ocean waves and rain that fell upon me in my mind’s eye. I could feel the turmoil within my stomach, and I rushed over to the edge of the boat, Jesus came with me and held my hair back from my face as I vomited into the sea.
Jesus held my hair back. Jesus offered comforting words as the sickness came and finally subsided. Jesus did not make the sickness stop. Jesus did not make the waves subside. Rather, Jesus gave me comfort and support and told me I will be just fine. It won’t be much longer. It was clear I needed to tough out this particular trip across these stormy waters, but it wouldn’t last forever. I felt Jesus say to me:
The storm will subside and there still may be another small squall or two, but you will find the horizon and have your moment of rest on dry land.
The rest of my time in adoration I felt Jesus holding me on the boat, caressing my hair and the side of my face, loving me through the storm.
My attitude changed after receiving reconciliation that day. I felt more like myself once again. The storm hadn’t quite subsided, I knew that, but I took in a moment of reprieve and the certainty that my rainbow and dry land would be coming soon.
