The Knitting Theologian

I used to have a recurring nightmare in which I was driving through the mountains on a foggy day. I was enjoying myself: the car was fun to drive, and I could see enough of the road ahead to feel comfortable with the speed at which I was travelling. The nightmare started when I suddenly came out of the mountains, into the sun, only to see that the ocean was on the wrong side of the road.

It’s difficult to describe the awful shock of this. Obviously the ocean wasn’t really on the wrong side; only my mental map was wrong. The problem was, though, that I now had no idea where I was or where I was going, and the map I had been using was clearly worthless.

The shock of this dream always woke me, so I never figured out what to do next. I haven’t thought of the dream in years, but I remembered it recently when I realized what a struggle these last days of this novena have become.

I thought the spiritual struggle of the novena would be like climbing a mountain. I would work hard but climb steadily, the way I have often done in real hiking. At the halfway point I would be at the summit of the mountain, take some time to enjoy the view, and then descend, keeping in mind that I must work on the way down, too, instead of relaxing and coasting back to the trailhead.

My map is wrong. This particular spiritual struggle is shaped like a valley instead. The first part was a descent down to the floor of the valley, which looked nice enough from the where I was. The descent itself, though difficult—I have never really liked descending while hiking—was certainly doable.

When I reached the valley floor, not knowing it was a valley, of course, I took time to enjoy the fact that I was halfway through. I remembered the graces I’d received so far. I kept going.

Soon after that halfway point, though, I began to tire. It was harder than I thought it would be to keep going. I had expected to work, but not like this. Doubts and fears began to assail me. They tested me on the way down, but were fairly easy to brush off then. Not anymore.

Sometime in the last week, I looked behind me and realized it seemed I hadn’t made any progress at all, and that’s when I realized that my map is wrong. I am going uphill, not downhill. The valley floor I am struggling to leave is still close by. The temptation to give up is very strong.

I only have nine more days of this. And what I’m doing is a small thing. I want to keep my promise to God, but the temptation to doubt that He even cares whether I do is constantly nagging in the background.

So I’m asking for prayers. If you could pray for courage and fortitude and perseverance for me, I’d appreciate it.