I Sigh With Open Mouth, Yearning for Your Commands

A year ago I made a commitment as an oblate to a religious order because I wanted to deepen my relationship with God. Like the psalmist I longed for personal direction; I could pray with all honesty, “I sigh with open mouth yearning for your commands.” (see Psalm 119)

So after the commitment ceremony I was so excited! I went right home and typed up my version of The Rule, trying to apply to my own life what St Benedict advised for monastic life. I couldn’t wait to get it in the mail to the director of oblates. I was crushed when she didn’t receive it with applause and esteem for my ability to write with insight, and she apparently didn't appreciate a little lighthearted humor either.

She said, “This is all about yourself!”
“Well of course it is.” I thought. “I live alone and I can’t tell anyone else what to do. This is the way I want to mimic life in a monastery because we imitate what we love. Like a little girl trying on her mother’s shoes I was trying on the Rule and trying to make it fit as best I could until I could grow into a mature oblate.”
She said, “As long as you say your prayers in the morning and in the evening, and go to Mass as often as possible you’ll be alright. If you can pray the Little Hours throughout the day that’s fine, but if you can’t just say ejaculatory prayers to Jesus when ever you think of Him; just tell Him how much you love him.”

I thought she was brushing me off, and I couldn’t believe she wasn’t thrilled to have me as an oblate. “Oh what wonderful things will happen now.” I had thought when I signed on. “The world is in for a treat!”

Pride is such a tricky sin. “How do we separate pride from the child-like certainty that God loves us?” That has been my year-long question. I have grappled with the intense longing for personal spiritual direction versus good direction of a general nature. I sigh with open mouth; I yearn for God’s commands! That is very up close and personal. I didn’t want just any old direction; I wanted a spiritual leader to direct me, myself, this individual. If I didn’t get the attention I wanted, them, “humph! “ I pouted. “I won’t be in your club, ha-ha”.

But finally I had the occasion to talk with Father James about my vocation; I told him I was already an oblate but it didn’t feel like enough--didn’t feel very solid. He asked me what the director of oblates told me to do so far. “What is her name?” He asked.

I was floored; I couldn’t even remember her name. That is how thoroughly I’d blocked the whole unpleasant experience of having my pride shot down at the very beginning of this undertaking.

But God is good. That very day a letter from the monastery came with a personal, handwritten letter from the director of oblates. She said I had been in her prayers and was asking if I still wanted to be an oblate.

Dear Sister, yes- yes- yes. I do want to be an oblate. And your instruction was very, very good. I am sorry it has taken a year for me to decide to follow it. My pride was layer after layer thick but your constant prayer (because it is your way of life and not just a fad) has finally managed to pierce through; I can see light! Thanks be to God.