Walking in the August Light

     August is a palpable time of year. Even if you were blindfolded, you would know it was August by the way it feels. You know other times of year by the way they smell or sound; weather is... personal that way. I suppose God is like that too.
     Summer is the season when things slow down, fall off, relax. I tell people that neckties should be illegal this time of year, but I never wear one anyway. The Bolo--a sort of lariat with a clip--is the official Arizona alternative. But I don't own one of those either. We just muscle through the hot days and ignore pretty much everything else.
     So it's almost a tradition around here that church programs fizzle out. And it's been discussed in the Fraternity that maybe we shouldn't allow that to happen. Our the training period for Candidates is being reduced from two years to eighteen months. Since we knock off June, July, August every year, we already do an eighteen month program. I imagine somebody got stuck over reducing it any more. So the talk is about how to bring life to the summer months when nobody is out moving around, except to look for a cold drink... I wonder how Jesus did summertime?

     Our cohort group began two years ago with more than twelve people. Half have left. With only six actively pursuing profession, I'm feeling a little nervous. I don't like the leaky-boat feeling, but then I remember Peter shouting at Jesus across the waves. We walk on water. It's part of our charism as Christians. He walks on water so if he's out there and we want to arrange a meeting...
     That's what we're doing. The Conversion Journey. Taking  meetings with God, who founded his kingdom on the seas and established it on the rivers and if we're ever going to get there we're going to have to learn to trust him. That's the news at quarter to three in the morning, Friday, August 6, 2010.



     In August the light changes. I call it the "heaven light". It's thick like water but transparent as glass. You can breathe the light here in the desert, and in August it grows so strong that even the city can't hide it. Everything is embroidered with detail, presence, consciousness. Trees, traffic, buildings. The light spangles through, careening from plane to plane like looking through crystals. It fills. August must be special to God because in the middle of our summer doldrums, he enters.
     We are bag-packing to begin new ministry next month. Our Fraternity work of feeding the homeless has ended, and some members are shifting to catechesis for children, also a way of feeding. Enter JoAnne and Tom to fill a gap that appeared, if we can. Such doubt is not Franciscan, we are learning. God calls from out on the water and we go--out of the boat, onto the waves, like it was everyday stuff. We have this one next year to prepare and then we make our Profession. JoAnne is already planning invitations. I understand now that a year is a pretty big thing, with lots of pockets. I only wonder if it will be enough.
    Before we get there, I'm going to have to face the issue of Reconcilliation--not a one-time event or even a big deal, but because it is part of the daily gift. We are a people reconciled to God through Christ. That means a relationship we must live, like our marriage. It means throwing in together, our life and God's life, sharing everything, personal, intimate, real. It's like walking in the August light, enfolded and transformed. We can't just live in God and not be changed. I've been abstaining from Reconcilliation, and it's time to feast.

     The thing about conversion is that we don't do it for ourselves, but there's still so much to be done...