The Fifth Station.

Having a cold makes me realize just how blessed I am.

This might seem a paradoxical statement. But the realization that having this cold is possibly the most wretched thing I have experienced so far this year gives me an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I have it so easy.

There are people all around the world whose countries have been ravaged by earthquakes (my mother's homeland of Chile no less). There are children starving for food and for love. There are the sick, the dying, the poor, the lonely.

And I suffer from a measly cold. That's the worst thing in my life right now.

God, I am overwhelmed by Your goodness and our generosity to me. I am thankful for my small crosses that I bear diligently and perseveringly. Thank You, Lord, that the crosses of others are not my own, and give me the grace to give aid as I am able. May I be Simon of Cyrene for Jesus.

Let us not be so quick to pity ourselves and cry about our situation, our cross, our difficulties. It could be so very much worse, and for many, it is.

Thank You, Lord, for my cross. Thank You for the strength to carry it daily. Give me the grace to embrace it lovingly. Amen.

A Son Comes Home

As you know, I spend my Sunday afternoon/evenings leading the music for the Teen Mass at my home parish. This is both a blessing and a challenge. Sometimes, it is difficult for me personally to enter deeply into the liturgy, as I am focused on my responsibilities.

But then God breaks into my reverie, interrupts my contemplation, and presents me with something new to consider, something that didn't jump out to me while planning the music.

Yesterday's Gospel was the story of the Prodigal son. I looked up the word "prodigal," and it literally means "to squander, to drive away" (Thanks Merriam-Webster). I have always had a tough time with this reading. I identify 100% with that older brother. He dutifully obeys and honors his father. He works hard and achieves much. He is the "perfect" son, and worse, he knows it.