Sunday, September 6, 2009

God, Can We Talk? The phone lines are now open . . .

Okay, so it turns out that last week almost every one of my readers must have been perfect. . .

. . . or chicken. . .

. . . or perhaps no one wanted to take part in my For I Have Sinned Monday 'cause you plain-old don't like me. . . or felt I was being blasphemous. . . (I - personally - would like to believe you were all perfect.)
So this week I'm changing the link on my sidebar button to God? Can we talk?

Once again, this hosted-by-Monday-linky-fest is a win/win for everyone. It's good for God - he gets a break from the burden of being omnipresent, 'cause folks from around the world can come right here to talk to him. And it's good for you, because you can say anything you'd like . . . you know. . you can petition him for something. . . ask questions that only he can answer. . . ask for forgiveness. . . kibitz about your life . . . anything you'd like to talk to God (and the rest of the blogging community) about.

This way, even perfect people can take part. And we wouldn't want to leave them out of the fun, you know. The Perfect People. They're touchy about that. And very misunderstood.



So, God? Can we talk?

Hello God?

You know how much I like my perfume?

I confess that there are times in my life when I've crawled into bed at the end of a tough day, rested my hand under my head, smelled the perfume still on my wrist and thought to myself, As long as I can smell this, everything will be okay.

Well, lately I have fallen in love with another scent.

It's fragrant.

It's a scent so powerful, it brings aromatherapy to a whole new level. . . but unfortunately, from now on we might have to call that new level, aroma-theft-apy. . .

You see, God, the problem is that I couldn't run right out and buy a bottle of the stuff because it belongs. . . to. . . well. . . to. . . you. The smell belongs to you!

It's one of the Holy Oils.

A heavenly mixture of olive oil and balsam. In fact, the on-line Catholic Encyclopedia refers to it as the Agreeable Odor of Christ (their words, not mine. . . I wouldn't think he'd have any disagreeable odors, but still. . . ) I never exactly knew about this particular Agreeable Odor until one of the priests accidentally spilled a drop onto the wooden counter in the sacristy. And I reveled in that smell for weeks.

And I wanted some. In my life. In my home. And in my brand new room where I pray. . . contemplate. . . live. . . and write. . . You see, Lord, I feel as though I have started a new life. . .what with the burdens of motherhood being eased a bit. . . I feel like I can breathe a big sigh of relief, and become more focused. . . and meditative. . . more zen-like.

And so I pilfered some of that Holy Oil (three drops to be exact) on a piece of cotton and brought it home. And then, in an act of consecration, I rubbed that agreeable odor into my antique desk. . . my cross . . . and the elephant in the room (yes, I have one. . . ) as a fragrant sign of my new life . . . of strength. . . of love. . .of forgiveness . . . and of a God that smells so good, you just want to hang around him/you . . . Forever.

Yikes! I never meant to get so deep . . . I just wanted to confess that I swiped some of the Holy Oils. . . And there must be other bloggers lined up to talk to you. . .

Fellow bloggers, the phone lines are now open!

If you have something you'd like to discuss, grab the button from my sidebar and add your name on Mr. Linky here. . . because he's the closest thing to a heavenly operator we have. . .