The Apple of God's Eyes

Those who know me, knows that I love apples, from apple pies to Applebee’s to the Apple iPad.  Being from the state of Washington, home of the Apple Cup and the largest apple production in the country, I have a unique fond for apples.  I love the colors, textures, smell and taste of apples.  But I have never reflected upon apples until I ran across Zechariah 2:8, “… whoever touches you touches the apple of God’s eye.”  It was a simple, but profound statement.  I realized that each one of us, including myself, are really all apples of God’s eyes.

I think that self-realization is one of the greatest revelations in prayer to come to.  Many times I feel that I am the apple of God’s eyes, but on others occasions, I feel unworthy of God’s love and forget how precious I am to God.  To be an apple of someone’s eyes means you have to be very dear to them and be at the focus of their life since the pupil is at the center of the eye.  I love the reality behind this imagery.  It is saying when I look into God’s eyes, I will be able to see my own reflection.  Sin of course, turns our eyes away from God and gaze at something that is disguised as love.  It is during these moments, I find myself feeling like a bruised apple. 

But even a bruised apple can be a precious gift in itself.  This is because when an apple is bruised, it sucks in more nutrients so that it can heal, and therefore, makes the apple sweeter.  For me, one of the things that I will take away from my novitiate is the knowledge that God not only loves me, but it is God’s joy to love me.  As my spiritual journey continues, I continue to take our founder, Fr. Leo Dehon’s words of going out to the world with a Bible in one hand and the other a newspapers to heart.  Of course looking at the signs of the time, I would like to tweak it just a bit by carrying a Bible in one hand, and the other with an “Apple” Ipad.  

 

Mama James.....

“Mama!”  A little girl in her yellow dress called out for me to pick her up and hold her.  It was the first time in my life someone called me that.  And certainly I did not expect that would happen in the Amazon of all places!  Nonetheless, God is unexpected. 

She spent a good portion of the day chasing me around so that I would pick her up.  At the end of the day, I still cannot forget the image of her as she burst into tears when she was leaving, stretching her hands out to me calling out, “Mama!”  I cried inside and at that moment, I thought of my mom.    

My mom is the person that taught me how to be a prodigal parent.  When she cradled me during my infancy years, she poured out and emptied herself so that I can be full of life.  She puts me first and is lavish in affection.  She is also a reckless spender of grace.  Her extravagant way of spending love can be seen as wasteful sometimes. 

In our culture today, it is sad that men are degraded to being more as predators than protectors.  We seem to have lost touch of what it truly means to be a man and what manhood is all about.  We forget that Jesus chose the best for himself to be born into a woman, and be nourished and cared in her arms. This is because he never looked at a woman with lusting eyes nor breaks her down with a mob of angry people.  Jesus elevates women from shame, lifts them up when they fall, and invite them to be whole in his presence.  Jesus judges the interior beauty, the beauty of the heart.    

Like any little girl, all of them want to be picked up, carried, held, loved and sought after.  That doesn’t change as they grow older.  It has been five years since I last saw her.  She has probably grown much and unrecognizable even if I did bump into her.  I know she has become a beautiful teenager now and perfect in her own way. 

And if you ever miraculous come to read this one day, I want you to know that I still think of you.  I want to tell you also to never settle for less.  Be a woman of grace, dance with Jesus, and he will let the perfect man cut in.  Always remain in Jesus’ heart, so that one day a man will have to enter the heart of Christ to find you.

 



"Jesus, here is James. James, here is Jesus."

Before entering the novitiate year, my family gave me a picture of Jesus entitled “Jesus, llama.”  It has a picture of Jesus stretching his hand out as it if he was calling us to come to him.  Sometimes this invitation is not as easy to respond to.  It’s a daily struggle to have the will power to approach Jesus.  This may be because we feel tired, ashamed, proud, restless, angry, or unworthy.  For some reason this past week during my retreat, I just felt so restless.  I wrestled with the solitude of being a hermit.  It was like my body telling me to do something, be productive and get up.  In contrast, my heart was telling me to slow down, worry about the ‘now’, and immerse yourself in God.  In our culture, accomplishments equal self-worth, I felt completely useless.

I knew I was on retreat so I felt the need to impress God and myself with fancy and creative prayer performances.  At times, I couldn’t come up with anything spectacular so I fall back to a prayer book, the rosary and the Divine Mercy Chaplet.  It was a safe bet and I was sure God would be pleased.  I felt holy and my head was swelling in pride.  That sense of holiness didn’t last for long because it was fabricated.  It quickly dissolved and I felt miserable again, back to being restless.  The first day passed, then the second, and then the third.  By Thursday, I cheated and went to a nearby parish where they had perpetual adoration.  This was because I know where ever I am or whatever I am doing, being in the presence of Christ through the Eucharist always makes me feel at home.  And home is where my heart is at the most peace. 

I don’t know how to describe it in words, but upon entering the door to the adoration chapel, awe was struck upon me and I felt a pull.  It seems there was a joyful presence that wants me here, more than I want to be there, and it felt right.  I was nervous and anxious, but sat down and uttered what were just simple words: “Jesus, here is James.”  And from the monstrance to my heart, “James, here is Jesus.”  What seems to be just plain and ordinary words, are actually a profound prayer experience.  It was this one-sentence dialogue that sums up my entire novitiate year.  Jesus, here I am, I have come to do your will.  James, here I am, I desire to be in your presence.  You are in my mind and in my heart.  Come to me, lay down your burdens and find rest.  Let me gaze upon your eyes and show you the depth of my love for you.  James, here I am, be still… and know that I am God.