Human greatness

Today was the last of this year's EfM exercises. We met at the Bishop Jones Center here in San Antonio for a day of contemplation, prayer and good byes. It was bitter sweet for the group for four members graduated this year and, for me, it is the mark of leaving EfM for an uncertain time. It is not only saying good bye to the group and the course for me, but possibly turning by back on a path that I might have taken. A path that my heart still longs to follow. Of course, for ever destination there are any number of paths, so I know that one day I will reach the end of this spiritual journey and the starting of another. Time, only, will tell what that jumping off point will be. But what ever it is, I pray that it is planted in firm ground with rich soil.

The first part of today's retreat involved walking the grounds in silent prayer and meditation. At each point of rest, there were passages from the Bible placed there for us to contemplate. For some stops I journaled and for others I merely sat in quiet joy surrounded by cool grass, fresh breezes, the scent of flowers and the lilt of bird song. It is an easy place to touch spirituality- our very own thin place in the heart of San Antonio. At some points you can hear the rushing waters from the spring that forms the headwaters of the San Antonio river. For a girl raised in the deserts of West Texas dancing waters have always held a special fascination and thankfulness. There are many things that came up today which I will probably spend the next few weeks fleshing out and recording for my devoted audience of one (have I mentioned today how much I love you?). But the following passage has, I think, been rolling around in my head for a long time now and I think its time I set it free. To provide a setting, it was the second stop in my spiritual walk: the small chapel of the Center. It, like the house, is decorated in Spanish colonial splendor- white washed walls; dark and rich wood; a classic simplicity of line and space. It was there I knelt at the alter rail and contemplated my life. Here is what appeared in my journal afterwards.


As I knelt before the alter I gave thanks- something I do not do nearly enough. I praised and thanked God for me. I think him for being perfectly imperfect and worthy in my unworthiness. For sometimes, somehow, I think it is our flaws, our weaknesses that make us great. Not even that we overcome our weaknesses to achieve greatness, but that our weaknesses are our greatness, that they define us. Not in a sense of negativity- but in a sense of freedom. My flows are what makes me- anyone can be a good nurse, any one can cook as well as I do, any one can be as good of an artist. But my inability to be straight forward, my constant shifting of all things to an oblique angle- that is what defines my art, my love, my sense of humor. For each great person we admire, we admire them for their flaws. If Julia Child had not been so delightfully and naturally shallow- interested more in the sensuality of the world then the intellectual, would she have been a great chef? If Patton had not been such a rigid bastard, would have then the great general? If I were me without my flaws, would I be me at all? In the end, if I were to remove all my flaws and be only my strengths I would be no one in particular. It is our flaws that define us. It is our weaknesses that make us great.