What, when so much is needed, do I ask for?
Finally, I answer, "O Lord, my God, you have made me a simple servant, and I mean that literally. I don't know at all how to act. I serve you -- okay, I try to serve you -- in the midst of a people whom you have chosen. And some of them are hungry. Some can't buy a job. Some watch discouragement blacken to despair in their sad, forsaken-feeling hearts. The broken are so vast in number they cannot be counted. Give your servant, therefore, an understanding heart to serve your people. And it would be great if, while you're at it, You could help with the knowing what's right and wrong thing. That always comes in handy."
The Lord smiles. He is pleased that his raga-d gal made this request.
"Because you have asked for this -- not long life for yourself, nor for riches, nor for the life of your enemies --"
"I was kinda gonna ask you to do something about the president. I mean, nothing drastic, but ..."
"Let me finish."
"Sorry. Go on. I'm listening."
"Because you have asked for understanding so that you may do what is right -- I do as you requested."
Okay, God probably says more, but I wake up screaming.
Wisdom. And all I had to do was ask for it and he gave it. Just like that. That was the easy part. Now things get complicated. I'll have to open my hands to take someone else's. Drag 'em along if I have to. Anoint them with oil and bless them. Heal, through no power of my own. Wisdom is not just a gift, but a call to act. The lively Sophia is lovely, but she expects a vigorous response.
Am I ready to give, even in my need? Am I ready to hear her whispers and shouts? Sometimes she's maddening with her concise, razor-sharp, single-word requests. She says, "Justice. Peace. Love." And then it's up to me.
I sit up in bed. Peel the pink shroud off my body. Stand like Lazarus freshly risen from the dead. Reach for my rosary to walk through the life of Christ. I think of Jesus as I pray the Creed, Our Father, and three Hail Mary's for an increase in faith, hope, and love. My voice carries over the drone of the air conditioner. Over my doubts and lingering terrors. Calmer now, I think of Jesus' dreams. Wonder if his father came to him saying:
"Ask something of me and I will give it to You."
What would Jesus do? I imagine he probably asked for wisdom, too. He was a good model for our behavior. Waaaay better than Solomon. Did he wake up screaming, wondering how in the world a poor carpenter from Nazareth -- of all places -- could bind up the broken? And how broken we are, in myriad ways, and epic numbers.
Did he remember who he was? True God and true man.
"The first joyful mystery," I say. "The Annunciation. Jesus comes down from heaven, and dwells in a mere mortal woman. Talk about poor in spirit! That's a heckuva downsize."
And somehow the idea that everything will be all right dawns on my dark night.
I whisper thanks for wisdom, knowing that wrapped in that shining red package is all I need to do what I'm called to do. Even if I'm poor in spirit.
Mine is the kingdom of heaven.
I ask one more thing in the hot, sticky night.
"Pray for us sinners ..."
I pray it over and over for decades.
Claudia Mair Burney is a novelist and a member of theGuild, along with Melvin Bray (language artist), Lisa Samson (novelist), Yaisha Harding (writer), Ercell Watson (comedian), Daniel Ra (singer-songwriter), Eugene Russell (singer-songwriter-rapper-actor), Russell Rathbun (storyteller), Daley Hake (photographer), Ed Sohn (multimedia artist), and Prisca Kim (writer). Learn more on theGuild's Facebook page.
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