As I write this, my Jewish friends celebrate the holiest of days, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. I woke up today, asking God to forgive my transgressions, especially for my lack of trust. I was angry with God for a while this past year. I felt abandoned by Him because He did not answer my prayer in the way I wanted Him, and I realized I was acting like a petulant child. Things are good now; I have regulated my emotions about this, and I became willing to let God. This is such a challenging practice that causes me to reach deep within to trust myself enough to allow God to take care of me the way He wants to. I have to remind myself to get out of His way and to receive His Divine providence.
I realized that I had to ask myself for forgiveness also for all the times this year that I said yes when I meant no; for the times that I consumed anything not good for my mental, physical, and emotional health; for the ways I did not act in line with my true north. I spent time getting acclimated to the darkness within and sitting with my shadows. I learned of the pain that I harbored because of generational trauma, pain that I was not responsible for causing but did have a say in how I will stop the cycle.
Tomorrow, I start my second year in this three-year graduate program. The first year seemed like a blur. I read books and articles that stretched my capacity to accept information. I watched videos that illuminated and transformed my previous mindset. I sat in on Zoom meetings or listened to lectures for my classes, which were asynchronous. I embarked on healing the emotional injury between my father and me, hurts that neither one of us inflicted intentionally but wounded us deeply anyway. I remember sitting next to his bedside, crying silently and involuntarily because the man was a stranger to me. We did not choose each other, but God made us family, and all I could do was pray for his colon cancer to disappear. Two months later, and with no further treatment, the cancer was successfully removed.
This relationship has been the most in need of repair. In my narrative, my father was always the bad guy, the authoritarian in my childhood, the first man who broke my heart. My work in the seminary where I am studying is instrumental in addressing my father's feelings and mending our connection. I love him in a way only a brokenhearted daughter can. A class I took this summer was Introduction to the New Testament. I recall the excitement when given the last seat in the class. All other sections were full. The ten weeks spent studying Jesus from different authors made me fall in love with Him in a new way. Understanding God's overarching love was humbling, and being honest, I still cannot comprehend the breadth of His love for humanity, especially now, living through our current turmoil.
Because of this class, the professor, and the discussions between the class members, I now find myself unlearning what everyone told me about God and deciding who He is in my life and my heart space. The good works He has done in my life are profound, and they often go undetected. I often want God to present miracles to me like the opening number of a Broadway musical. The God I believe in, however, is very subtle and mysterious, but not an enigma. I am beginning to enjoy finding Him in the sunrise, in the friends I have made in the program, in me. I see Him in the words of my prayers, in the giving of my time, in my vulnerability to others.
Last week, I had dinner with a friend who shared what guides her throughout her days: Trust in the Lord with all your heart and not rely on your insight. In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths (Prov 3:5-6 NRSV). I am grateful for this simple yet profound directive, to trust not with my mind but with all my heart. It requires courage and a childlike openness to be willing to say yes. Lord, I'm ready now.
Maria Padua