"I'm gong to be blunt"

The most prevalent phrase I heard this weekend was, "what are you up to these days?"--which is not surprising, since that's what people ask old friends whom they haven't seen in several months.

But another phrase that characterized this weekend was the announcement of forthcoming bluntness. The fact that it happened twice in two days makes it a prominent feature of my whirlwind weekend. And it makes me stop and consider what I think about it. Thus an entry for faithful reader one and faithful reader two (or should I call them "faithful check-ers," since I hardly ever give them something new to read? how about, "for the Erins in my life"):

Ahem. Back to blunt.
The older (and wiser?) I get, the more I appreciate bluntness. If you need to say something, just get it out. Chances are, it's not that big of a deal. Frustration comes when something needs to be addressed, the speaker doesn't want to be blunt, and the listener spends most of his energy trying to figure out exactly what's being said.

As if to prove my point, both instances I experienced turned out not to be a big deal. If it were not for the bluntness, though, they might have turned into a big deal. Especially the second announcement of forthcoming bluntness I experienced, made in the car on the way to the airport, with plenty of miles to go! Yikes--dangerous closed environment from which there is no escape! Of course, it was my fault:
Lounging in the passenger seat, chatting away, watching the traffic and the darkening California sky, I suddenly realize my driver hasn't said much. Not too concerned, but wanting to draw out some dimension of fascinating personality I know is hidden within my good friend, I ask, "What are you thinking about?"
"Uuuum," startled smile, side glance, "well, ok. I'm going to be kinda blunt now, ok?"

By the way, what does "kinda blunt" mean? I think it means, "If you don't want me to be blunt, you can still object, and I'll tone it down without too much effort." Maybe it just means, "this is blunt, but it's not scary." Whatever it means, I give permission, because the conversation can be finished more quickly.

And as a matter of fact, the conversation was resolved in less than 5 minutes, and I moved on to the next thing I wanted to discuss with my friend. Which thing was a line I read recently in a beautiful book entitle A Right to be Merry:

"The highest use of something is the sacrifice of it."

Like my driver pointed out (the blunt comment off his mind, he was a little less reserved), it's not that profound until you realize how much truth you have to already understand. In commenting on my little "favorite," he actually coined another profundity:

"You have to realize, not only that this world is not the only thing, it's also not the important thing."

Yes, yes, this is all quite obvious. But take these two sentences and meditate on them in front of the Blessed Sacrament. You will find that suddenly you're not kneeling in a little chapel anymore.

Suddenly, you are hovering on the edge of creation, wondering why God so loved.

You're realizing how generously He gives His little children things to sacrifice back to Him--like a father who gives his child a dollar to purchase a candy bar for a Father's Day gift.

Suddenly, every little doubt, every tiny worry about what may or may not happen, becomes silliness and irrelevance.

And then you wonder why you ever worried.

Another comforting thought, credited to Father Check (the best spiritual father I've ever had):
It is in God's own interest to let us know what His will is. Doesn't He want us to do His will? In any romance, there is a certain hide and seek that goes on, which makes it beautiful. But ultimately, the Lover wants His beloved to discover Him and to discover His desires.

And you wonder why you ever worried.