We’ve had three Rottweilers over
the years. Great dogs, great big dogs; but one particular fault
between them. They all had stomach
issues; and you knew this quite distinctly from the telltale silent fog. Invisible.
Sometimes silent, but deadly. It
was much like the apocalyptic angel of death that washed over the sorry souls
during the Exodus. Only we usually
weren’t prepared with our “loin’s girt”.
We would be blissfully reclining on the couch, the dogs resting
comfortably at our feet and wham, the
green, stifling pestilence would be upon us and it was every man for himself as
basic survival instincts kicked in and we ran for the safety of fresh oxygen.
Firing on all cylinders.
Those words came to me as I was working
around the house the other day. While I
know the expression is meant for top automotive engine performance, I tend to apply
it to other things- from stinky dogs to my spiritual life. To me, firing
on all cylinders is an idyllic idiom that sometimes happens in my own spirituality,
a sort of union with God when my focus is all on Him during the most routine of
activities. For instance- dragging the
hulking dead weight of dirty laundry downstairs, and as I am putting it into
the washing machine again I am filled
with thoughts of how grateful I am that I have a washing machine. I have clean water and can afford the
detergent and clothes. Gratitude grace
descends and prayer rises up to God that I am healthy and I can do this mundane
chore without help; and I offer it all up.
I place this gratitude, this little sacrifice into the Heart of Jesus in
the Blessed Sacrament with all my love.
Then I think of the Blessed Mother
and her life in Nazareth, and all the household chores she did. I join with her pure heart and earnestly
offer a “Hail Mary” and when I am firing on all cylinders I pray that prayer continually
throughout my day. As my always swirling
brain flits between a worry over the news headlines to my children, I pray that
persistent “Hail Mary…” When a
particular person I know pops into my mind from nowhere, I really believe it is
a prompting to pray for them. We are all
connected, and I unite my heart to the Blessed Sacrament and pray on their
behalf, on my own behalf, “Jesus
Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner”.
Ordinary living. And when I sometimes cooperate with the grace
God is trying to heap on me, I fire on all cylinders and live an ordinary
holiness. For the vast majority of us, Heaven
is not reached through monumentally heroic feats like starting a new religious
order or burning at the stake for our God.
We do the small things well: taking out the garbage with a prayer for
those who have nothing, doing the dishes in the joy of knowing that only God
will see that selfless act because your family won’t even notice as the perpetual tidal wave of dirty dishes
takes their place…
In all the normal, everyday
setbacks and complications we face- we can unite these valuable crosses to God
for the conversion of sinners, and a reparation to Him most especially in the
Blessed Sacrament. No sickness goes
without merit then, no financial stress is wasted. It all has value. Heck, even dealing with the intestinal issues
of large dogs can be beneficial, in more ways than one…
You know, I’m pretty sure I
remember during some lean years financially my husband Jim had suggested that
instead of burning the furniture for heat, or possibly eating the weakest
family member for sustenance, we could harness the dog and his consistent,
steady stream of dependable gas. Sometimes
quite vocal, at one point Jim insisted there was a small girl crying in the
living room, but no. It was the
dog. They were the masters of their
personal instruments. My husband had
brilliantly thought to sketch some plans that involved candles and some baffles
the dog could wear which would “safely” convert their “product” into “clean energy-efficient
heat”. Unfortunately we nixed that idea
as we weren’t sure if the dog would incinerate himself, and us.
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