My tenth-grade biology teacher told me I would make a good scientist. “You ask a lot of questions,” he said. Hearing criticism in his comment, I apologized. “Don’t apologize,” he responded. “Asking questions,” he said, “is a characteristic of a good scientist.”
A career in science was not in my future, but my inquisitive nature has played a major role in my spiritual life.
In my relationship with God, questions matter. God uses my questions to reveal where I need to grow.
This week, I started rereading old journals, and I find them filled with questions.
Repeatedly in my journals, I ask, “What does this mean for me? What is the lesson? The invitation?” Those questions appear in response to words of scripture, world events, conflicts at work and struggles in relationships. Almost anything can elicit these questions for me—books, movies, nature, a sentence or even one word overheard on a train or in line at a store. God catches my attention in many different ways and invites me to seek insight and meaning, to ask for direction.
In one of the journal entries from the time I was leaving my employment with the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I reflected that for more than five years, while working with the Sisters, I had been pondering the love of the Sacred Heart. And then I asked, “How am I doing on a love-o-meter? Am I acting out of love? Is love my motivator?”
The image of a “love-o-meter” tickled me. I had forgotten writing that; but the image still works for me, as do the questions.
A few months later, when reflecting on the love of the Sacred Heart, I wrote about “the soft eyes of Jesus—accepting, seeing the best, seeing the potential.” That is what love does. Do I?
I have been reading journals from 2005-2006 and some of the questions I was asking then are still with me today: “Will this matter at the end of the week? In ten years? At the end of my life?”
Asking “will it matter…?” questions gives me perspective and helps me make decisions about where to put my energy. I try not to give too much energy to things that really don’t matter much.
One thing I learned from Jim as he was getting ready to die was that very little of his old life mattered at the end of his life. What mattered most was to be reconciled with the people who were important to him.
The past three years have been very difficult, with Jim’s illness and death and then my move back to Michigan. My old life is gone; God is doing something new with me. In this time of transition, I sometimes feel like I am on shifting sands. Perhaps it is time to resurrect the “love-o-meter” to help me keep on track in this new adventure.
Madeline Bialecki 
Thank you for your post they encourage me to reflect and question my love o meter as well. Deb
I find the question of how loving I am to be with me continually–the answer changes day by day!
For some reason this blog makes me think of Fr. Ed’s homily on Sunday reminding us that each of us is a vessel that can be used to spread God’s love. That bothered me. I can’t see myself as a vessel. This vessel isn’t ready or good enough to serve as a vessel. Maybe I need some of that “love o meter .
Caused me to think. Thanks. Jane
Sent from my iPad
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Dear, sweet Jane, Your love-o-meter needle is off the charts (think of the cartoon thermometer that explodes). You are a vessel. You are the epitome of St. Paul’s image of being poured out like a libation. You give so much of yourself. I am sure Fr. Ed had your picture in front of him as he prepared his homily and said to himself, “How to I tell people about Jane?” I think what you need is to hear God say to you, “This is my beloved,” and feels God’s pleasure at how well you share God’s love with the world. Today is the feast of St. Frances Cabrini (her birthday), and her charge to her missionaries was to be “bearers of the love of Christ in the world.” You do that, and I am blessed to have been the recipient of your love. Bask in the glow of God’s gratitude!