I've written about this before, but in the midst of our family's great changes, I find myself thinking of the sacrifices necessary to become a saint. I'm wondering if unpacking a house and sorting through frames and silverware and pillows and random sets of sheets count. . . kind of doubt it, but I would like to put it up for consideration, next time "acts to become a saint" comes up for discussion.
Recently, I skimmed a book while in Adoration about the visionaries who see Mary. They began as children who now are adults (obviously), with an intense devotion to Our Blessed Mother and an overwhelming gift and responsibility of seeing her.
So. I would like to believe in this whole heartedly. I'd like to see her, for heaven's sake! I'd like for her to lay her hands on me and give peace to my children and husband. I'd like to hear her voice and know what her hair looks like and what color her eyes are and what she smells like. But, really? Does this really happen? I am no qualified skeptic. There have been droves of people--hired by the Church, the media, governments and scientific think tanks--to disprove the visionaries. And they haven't. They've become their biggest defenders and protectors. So, this leaves me at the very beginning of a search--both spiritual and intellectual. I haven't felt this compelled about a dilemma since my economics grade in college.
One of the visionaries reported that Mary told her something, and this little nugget has lodged itself into my consciousness for the past few weeks. She supposedly said, "Do nothing that is a hindrance to your sanctification." She didn't say "Do something occasionally and My Son will overlook it," or "Do nothing that is a hindrance to you being nice or friendly or accepted or kind or generous." She said do NOTHING that will prevent you from entering the kingdom of heaven.
So, in my lenten journey, and in my greater pilgrimage through this temporary life into my eternal home (that I pray is in the clouds and not in the flames), it is difficult to imagine even a day where I do everything good and nothing that distances me from God. It is my prayer that I learn to see my failings, and how they contribute to the greater worldly pain we find ourselves in, and ardently strive to fix them. It takes a lifetime, doesn't it? And even at the end, all we can do is beg for mercy and hope we in fact led a Saint in Training life, and not just a nice one.
Happy Lent from the disorganized Gales!
