Well I made it to the presentation of the gifts song before I got all teary-eyed. Lately, with all the emotion and spiritual handouts I feel like I am being given, it puts me on edge during mass. The song was one that always gets me:
I say yes my Lord!
Through all the good times,
through all the bad times.
I say yes my Lord,
to every word you speak.
I was thinking about the week ahead, namely the fifteen miles I have to run next Saturday. It makes me ill just thinking about it, but I looked up at that crucifix and even though I think it is yucky, I say yes my Lord! I say yes and in me is this joy and gratitude once again for the grace given to a daughter who cannot earn it, or will every deserve it- to say yes with a full heart. Bring on the cross! Good job God!
And as we kneel, preparing for Jesus to come to us- really and truly I mentally think on the sixth station: Veronica wiping the face of Jesus. I think on the words: she looked neither to the left nor to the right. She saw only Him. And I almost push with my hands all those distractions around me that so easily attract my weak mind because I must focus on all that matters- the most important moment of my week.
And at the elevation of the Sacred Host I pray: “My Lord and my God, my Lord and my God, my Lord and my God. I believe! Increase my faith, hope, love, patience, purity, wisdom, charity, humility.” When I first created that little prayer I only had the faith, hope, and love, but as time went on I heaped on the other stuff too. Hey, might as well ask for it all while you’re at it. Can’t hurt.
I thought of St. Therese who, when she was asked by her elder sister to pick some playthings out of a basket exclaimed, “I want it all!” Me too. I want everything. Only problem is, I don’t think I have thought that through well enough because it is said that, “where a lot is given, a lot is expected.”
Hmm. Gosh. Could run into a bit of a snafu that I may not be ready nor happy about. But, whoa there. Regroup Teresa. No need to let the devil in during this little love fest Jesus and I are having. Precious Blood. That’s it, hide in His Blood. That is the only answer, and He will take care of me. That’s not saying that the crosses will be all pretty and dramatic like some movie and I will go to the stake in an ecstasy of holy joy. St. Rita had a thorn coming out of her head for cripe sake, it smelled bad and had all kinds of yuck coming out of it. No. Crosses are not glamorous things.
If we really and truly saw what Jesus looked like- mangled, bloody humanity hanging on that piece of gnarly wood we would understand. But then again, He’s probably not asking for a lot from me. Just everything.