wearing the Armor of Christ

I have received a landslide of letters from Chris. One directly, and many others he has sent to me through friends. Here is the first one.

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15 January 2011

Dear Anne,

Greetings to you from Irwin County Detention Center! Thank you for the letter. Just the day it arrived I received a visit from Fr. Bob Cushing who showed me the email you sent to the support community. His visit brought me great comfort and it pleased me to know he is in the loop. With all your prayerful organizing I am miraculously guarded with divine protection; you provide me with a sense of self that wears the armor of Christ, for we become one by our ceaseless prayer and I trust in the community to be the thriving hands and feet that spread my love for God. In particular I am entrusting you with the task of mediating my writings. May they prove fruitful through service to a more exalted purpose than I can imagine. By way of introduction, consider Psalm 89 to the God of hosts (89:8). As your friend it is such a gift to be chosen by you (89:19). From this relationship of conspiracy to discover the Kingdom of God in our midst, I am confident of God's abiding love making us each more mature, creative Christians (89:36). In our ministry we couple the search for God made by the prisoner (89:38); the pearl of great price after all comes from the clam savoring a grain of sand deep under the water. Our only reproach is the longing to find the great beauty, the suffering servant disguised in ugliness (89:50). With this in mind I thank your patience transcribing these pages. I know you will pluck out the pearls.

Anne I of course remember sharing coffee with you. It was your birthday, a Tuesday, and your friend the barista spared us a charge. I could feel bad that I don't remember all that we said; I mean, sure, one thing stands out: the revelation that you have a MA in professional writing impressed me and I admired your hope to create a Catholic imagination in column writing. Ok, it's two things plus this -- you called me out. I said, "Geez, Anne, I don't wish on anyone the merciless gruel of a writer's life." You said, "I bet you are a writer."

I think of myself more as a prayer. That's how we really met. All those Lenten faith sharing meetings set the foundation. That winter was a mournful one but during our meetings listening to the inflamed heart of yours stoked by the Spiritual Exercises in Everyday Life, the gray scale fell from my eyes and my vision became in living color. My heart hurt from leaving Gonzaga Prep shortly before. So powerful were my emotions once when I prayed with the Rembrandt depiction of the Prodigal son: I coped by burying my grief. You were one of the friends I made as I plunged into the Portland community in performing works of mercy, a consolation to me during a time I could not see God's face but in the reflection of others. Know that I am deeply moved to be seen in your eyes as a "companero." I pray that God's freedom further impair your neediness for the things of the world, that your faith guide you to the garments of Jesus Christ and heal you so that the fullness of vocation to which we are called be your inheritance.

Chris