I want to be a saint. I truly do. I want to get to the end of my life, more than anything else, and I want to hear my Lord say well done good and faithful servant.
So why is it so hard to remember when I’m in the midst of my sanctification?
Recently the main sewer line at our house backed up, causing feces to flow up out of the shower all over my recently renovated beautiful new master bathroom. As it was happening it briefly crossed my mind that Jesus could use my response to this situation as a way to bring me closer to heaven. And instead of leaning into that thought I actively resisted it and did what I always do when things go wrong— I looked for someone to blame.
My sights quickly settled on my husband. This was definitely his fault. He bought us this house, he hired the contractor, probably the plumber he hired wasn’t good enough and messed something up. My thoughts spiraled down and down until I felt nothing but contempt for the man I married.
I was so stubborn I refused to accept any help from him in cleaning up the mess after the plumber left; a task that took hours. We went to bed in silence that night. I woke up the next morning still feeling angry. I was pouring myself a cup of coffee and read a little prayer card that I keep in the coffee cabinet; finally my heart was softened.
“It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home.” (Mother Teresa)
Ouch.
The road to heaven is paved with many pride swallowing moments. Many teary apologies. Many whisperings of “will you forgive me.”
I made a lovely breakfast for my family that morning and begged Jesus to help me remember my future sainthood in the hard times.
