My Miracle Workers

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.

Helen Keller

Here’s a question I never thought about until Connie Rossini at Catholics Spirituality Blogs‘ asked,

“What is your spiritual idiolect and how did you discover or develop it?”

She defined it for us:

“Everyone has an idiolect–a collection of personal speech habits that is different from anyone else’s. Have you ever thought about your spiritual idiolect? Since your soul is unique, you have a personal way of speaking to God that no one else completely shares. Today I am announcing the creation of a new blog that will help you find and fine-tune your spiritual idiolect.”

Though it took me a few days in prayer and waiting to hear from the Lord, I think I finally understand the question.

In the spiritual life, discovery is often a very slow and painful process. I don’t know why; it just is. I came to understand mine when the Lord reminded me of one of my childhood heroes.

As a young girl, the first time I saw the movie, The Miracle Worker, I remember being captivated by several things:

the terrible tragedy of being born able to see and hear, then struck at 19 months with a disease that left her deaf and blind

the desperation that set in because she was isolated and cut off from any understanding of language

the miracle of Annie Sullivan who finally taught her to communicate by spelling words into her hands

In a small way, like Helen, I understand what it is to feel isolated and alone, trapped in a spiritual internal darkness and silence generated by tragedies in my life over which I had no control. There’s a scene in the movie where in an attempt to teach Helen that every object has a word to identify it, Annie begins spelling the word “m-u-g”, into her hand, but in utter frustration, when Helen can’t make the connection, she throws the doll Annie had given her as a present… against the wall.

Yes, there were many years as a young Christian I felt just such exasperation because I didn’t know how to translate the spiritual language of my heart.

One day, Helen finally made the connection to her “idiolect” as Annie, though worn by the mission she had undertaken yet sure of her passionate call to it, ran cool water over one hand while spelling it out –” w-a-t-e-r-” — in the other. The joy of that moment of awakening still brings tears to my eyes, for now I understand that Christ is the friend who came to me bringing the living water of His Word which translated my darkness into light.

Until I had the Scriptures in my life, I was deaf and blind…but once I had the Word as my anchor and the light of my path, the Lord sent other “miracle workers” who also spoke my idiolect; each in turn sent another friend. The Blessed Mother and the rosary became my companions and one day she sent a friend who opened a greater understanding of who I am as a child of God.

Upon my palm he spelled ,” P-A-X” and I was introduced to St Benedict. By love and obedience to his Holy Rule, I listen for the sweet voice of the Lord inviting me to be a laborer in His field…

Ora et Labora

He has taught me to draw from the well of prayer in the Divine Office, lectio divina, and silent contemplative prayer, striving for the monastic lifestyle as my state in life allows.

And I’m content in my silence now, thankful that by His grace, the Lord saw fit to be my miracle worker– sending others as well, who patiently and lovingly stayed with me, spelling words into my hands until I understood my spiritual idiolect.

I have engraved you on the palms of my hands —Isaiah 49:16

+PAX

Prefer nothing to the love of Christ