Fran Rossi Szpylczyn is a powerhouse. She maintains her own blog and writing projects, works at a church, leads retreats, and is also a marvelously supportive reader and friend to many other spiritual bloggers. Her encouragement and enthusiasm have been so special in my life and I was thrilled when she agreed to write about Hosea for the How Can I Keep from Singing? series.
Long have I waited for
Your coming home to me
And living deeply our new life
God wasn’t kidding. This God, whom I had at once deeply loved, and deeply feared, was beckoning. I was leery of God the Father for one thing, and the organized church, institutional religion? The Roman Catholic Church? Pffft! Oh, don’t get me wrong, my long absence from the Church was one thing, but in my heart, I knew that I loved Mary, the Saints, and the Eucharist. I just stayed away in some sad and bizarre combination of I’m not interested and they’d hate me anyway. Yet a particular refrain, of a particular song, chased me and brought me directly into the grip of that very God, that very church.
Long have I waited for
Your coming home to me
And living deeply our new life
This is not the specific story of how or why I returned, or of how or why after a number of years, I left my corner office for the parish office. This is a little story about how God used a song like a doorway, inviting me in, welcoming me, calling me back, so let me use the refrain one more time…
Long have I waited for
Your coming home to me
And living deeply our new life
There was something about the melody that caught me at first, then the words. It was primal, visceral at first, because I was not listening to the words. I can recall sitting in a pew and feeling my heart shift, and at first it made me more afraid. My reluctant return was one thing, but something deeper was happening. I’m not even sure that I knew that it was happening, or that the song was the tool that God used to pry open the sealed doorway of my heart.
Long have I waited for
Your coming home to me
And living deeply our new life
Yet there was God waiting, and when I did listen to the words of Gregory Norbet’s (then of Weston Priory) song, Hosea. Over time, this song changed my life, God using it to open, soften, and transform my heart. Frequently I find myself wondering if it has had a similar impact upon others.
God uses all means necessary to call and gather us, and no – God is not kidding around. The mean and vengeful God that many people image, although that was not my particular problem with God, is tender and full of love. God is more persistent than a willful toddler, more determined than runner with a goal. God is also more tender than the most loving parent, and God is more forgiving than any metaphor the best writer could dream up.
That is why this song is so powerful for me. The music which first jarred me from within, causing me to lose my balance, and thus release a little of my control, just enough for God to permeate my being in a very new and different way. And here I am, so many years on, living deeply that new life, full of gratitude always.
No doubt it was a combination of many little things, but it was this song that perhaps became the catalyst for such metanoia. This song is playing in my heart always. And God and Gregory Norbet did not meant this song for me alone. Don’t let fear keep any of us apart. Let’s go back, come with me, together we all go, to live a deeper life.
Hosea – Gregory Norbet
Come back to me with all your heart
Don’t let fear keep us apart
Trees do bend though straight and tall
So must we to others call
Long have I waited for
Your coming home to me
And living deeply our new life
The wilderness will lead you
To the place where I will speak
Integrity and justice
With tenderness
You shall know.
Fran Rossi Szpylczyn is a Catholic write, blogger, catechist, and retreat leader. By day she is the parish secretary at the Church of the Immaculate Conception, in Glenville, NY. According to her, without her daily parish ministry, none of her other work would be possible! She lives with her husband Mark and stepdaughter Erica in Clifton Park, NY. Read more at her blog, There Will Be Bread.
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Oh dear dear Fran, it should come as no big surprise that this, is one of my favorite favorites. Big yes to “primal.” Not to get too cognitive about it, but I think the key it’s in might have something to do with that because it evokes Middle Eastern melodies.
Your post is pitch perfect and now bookmarked so I can reread it…before needed, hopefully. JSYK, I followed the link from Twitter, where I was completing my morning scan of stuff. Love social media! Love you!
Meredith! Oh primal it is indeed, and yes, mostly likely for the very reason you said! Love to you too, my friend! Thank you for the retweeting of this post.
Love, love, love, love this, Fran, and love you too. This piece so resonates within me today as I long and pray for my daughter’s return to Eucharist.
Fran, this is such a beautiful post. It is so amazing to me how God speaks individually to each of us and draws us to God. I am grateful that you have shared this portion of your journey with us. Blessings.