Do you have a bad a temper? There's a saint for that. Did you have a lot of money growing up? Did you have no money growing up? Do you like to engage in lengthy, potentially annoying (hey, let's face it) philosophical discussions? Do you avoid lengthy, potentially annoying philosophical discussions and find the Lord in your small, daily tasks? There's a saint for that and that and that and that and, yes, that.
For me, there's just something about Mary. Not that I chose her, but that she chose me. Or the Lord asked her to choose me. And the fact that He chose her and then she chose me never fails to bring tears to my eyes. Never fails to make me feel so tiny yet so important at the very same time. When I hear her whisper to me, when I feel her pushing, ever so gently, into my heart, I want to say "Wait. Let me clean up in here a bit. It's a bit of a mess...you know, with the worries and the frustrations that I've let pile up in the corners. Look, I'll just sweep them all away. They're honestly not important."
I don't know how she does it, but she does. And when I say to her "they're honestly not important", I mean it. Because there's something about Mary that makes me be the kind of woman that I wish I was. The kind of woman who doesn't let people's lack of critical thinking skills bother me. The kind of woman who doesn't stew over the what-ifs and the can't you see what's going on here?s in the world. The kind of woman who doesn't have to clean up her heart when Mary comes for a visit.
This morning, she called me early, before the sun was up. I tiptoed to the dresser, hoping to find my rosary where I imagined it was, my fingers searching in the dark. In the silence. Not there. Then I remembered that there's another one in the den. I shuffled down the hall, wondering what she had in mind for me. What am I going to learn today? And sorry about the mess again, honest.
But the rosary in the den was gone, too. Fine, I'll pray on my fingers.
The January sky is starting to turn pale now. I sit on the sofa facing the picture window. It's Tuesday- the sorrowful mysteries.
Oh. Now I see.
Lord, help me truly repent for my sins, the very sins you died for but are still so hard to abandon. Lord, give me moral courage so that even in the face of ridicule or disbelief I can "Yes, this is true. This is right. This is what is Good." Help me to be patient in carrying out the duties of my vocation even though it can feel frustrating, or difficult, or, yes, painful. Today I will carry my cross willingly. And please help me if I don't.
Because there's something about Mary that makes me try and be the woman God knows I can be when His voice just isn't enough.