It is the Third Sunday of Lent, 2011 and the story of Jesus and the Woman at the Well is a love story. "To all who did accept him he gave power to become children of God to all who believe..." Jn1:12

We all have a share in this story. It begins with a word; the news of Christ, arriving in our lives from any of countless pathways. Hearing about him we look for him. We listen to his stories, his teachings, his word and something happens; a spark in the heart, a light in the darkness. What we receive, we want more. Looking for him turns into a search, and searching for him we learn to watch, wait and listen--because he comes in the spirit, like wind that we can't trace. Suddenly, he is with us.

That's how life has been over the weeks while I've been silent. He comes unexpectedly. I crave him, yes. I am reduced some days to near-begging. Sometimes all I want is to beg: please, please, please come to me. But he comes when I'm not expecting it.

Today, he came at Mass (yeah, go figure!) After a slow start we had a lot of people. The church of Our Lady was filled, and the overflow in the lobby was full too. We didn't need the chairs outdoors, though, and that was just as well because the morning dawned cold. But I went to my station to greet people on their way in and it was a sweet balm. Though I've been very sad at home, that feeling left the way clouds lift from the mountains. Since church was full I stood in the back, in the entry beside the Font, handing song-sheets to people as they came in. There is a candle stand there, with a picture on the wall that changes from season to season. Today it was an icon of Jesus, severe (icons never smile) and suitable for Lent as we seek the Lord who judges all our deeds. Since my deeds haven't been all that saintly lately I stood quietly under his gaze, feeling not sorrowful but filled with tears, almost weeping. I thought I would have to leave, walk in the quite grounds, get myself together, but since I had no Kleenex I told myself not to cry. It was a struggle.

The other ministers handled the Communion line, so I slipped in among the others and received the Bread and Wine. This is sweet for me and nearly always peaceful, the grace of Communion flowing in like warm, calm waters. To stand then, in my own quiet company with the Lord, is my favorite time of all. I notice around me how so many more people do the same, some of them walking outside of the small church while the congregation receives. Some stand on the lawn, gazing at the mountains, others walk beneath the trees. It is a very holy place, like Lourdes. You can feel the companionship of the saints and angels there.

Then the community regathers to sing and offer praise, there are last blessings, invitations to fellowship, a final song. I get an armfull of bulletins from behind the reception desk and take my place outside the north door.

All my regular friends come out directly to the plaza for donuts and coffee and they all say hello. I give them a smile, a greeting, a good wish or a blessing, as my heart leads me, but it's good just to see them, to be there, with my family, praising and celebrating God's great gift.

"To all who did accept him he gave power to become children of God to all who believe..."

We have the power to become God's children. All he asks is that we believe. But it means a complete change of our lives. We cannot keep the things that are not proper for his children. The process of changing is called conversion and it is the birthright of every Christian. Someone told me recently (during the silence) that when a person makes this commitment they should expect the devil to redouble his efforts to distrupt, delay and deny. However, I was also told that when we pray the Rosary, the demons in hell cringe in terror. Evidently, they recognize the power of God.

I think that part of the journey to become Franciscan means facing God's power. The same power that devils fear is our great hope and consolation, for God who has all power is our Father and he loves us. That means that in times of trial we have a great strength. And nobody denies God.

So... there have been difficulties, and through these gifts I am learning to trust my Father. It's a wonderful thing and I am grateful to learn--though too many times I doubt I'm a good student. I wonder if that isn't the hardest thing for me--my own self-doubt.

But as each day passes I recognize what he is doing for me and I realize at the same time that he wants to do it for everyone. This thought helps me to be happy when there sometimes doesn't seem to be another reason. Jesus gave the woman at the well the gift of revelation. He told her who he was and what he came to do. She was so excited she left her life standing by the well and ran to gather others. I'm hoping that our profession will feel like that, and that it will work the same transformation.

Once we claim God, who else is there to follow?