Infinite Mercy, Part II: St. Therese, the Plumber, and Perspective

I am writing this post on my living room couch, in the middle of the day, as the plumbers I called this morning make a repair in my basement.

I should be freaking out, but I'm not... because God is merciful!

Of Rain, Rage, and Regret

Like so many thousands of people in the United States, I embarked on a journey with my college to Washington D.C. for the March for Life. It was the most difficult trip for me by far (and I have been to quite a few). I am used to having a hotel to stay in, access to a shower, a night of solid sleep, etc. It turns out that I had none of those things this time around. I am not saying this to ask for pity, I am saying it to make a point. If I get so grumpy, cold, and uncomfortable during my time in D.C., what urges me to go? What urges others to go who experience the same and worse than me? I cannot speak for the massive crowds, I can only speak for myself. I go because I want abortion to end. I choose to suffer the rain, express my rage, and endure the regret that my country is not doing more to protect the most helpless.

Each trip proves to be an experience for suffering. Perhaps this suffering can be sanctified by offering it in reparation for the abhorrent crime of abortion, as well for those who stubbornly support it despite the truth. It is hard to not be angry at a lot of people for supporting abortion, yet I do not think that anger will solve anything. As cheesy as it sounds, only love can conquer evil. I remember that in one of the movies about John Paul II, a young Karol was speaking to a man named Jan (pronounced "Yahn"). Jan said something to this effect "The Nazis will disappear because evil will consume itself. If they are not defeated by love, the Nazis will simply reappear in a different form."

This little saying is impossibly hard for me to understand. It suggests that in order to defeat with love, we must suffer. More lives must be lost, more embarassment and derision must be endured, etc. It is a hard thought to grasp for a rather vengeful person like myself, yet I somehow believe that it is true. And so we continually march, maybe for decades more as millions more infants die. But I do believe that the Pro-Choice movement will consume itself eventually. It may take years, but as long as there is a March for Life, I will be there grumbling in the rain.

A Death in the Family

I woke up this Sunday morning two minutes before my alarm went off. I crawled out of bed, feeling sorry for myself and grabbed some clothes to throw in the dryer to dewrinkle them. In the laundry room, I met my mother who told me in a shaky voice that she had some bad news: Her sister Cathy had died last night of a sudden heart attack. My Aunt Cathy was only 61 years old. As I write this, the reality has not quite set in yet. We all just saw her on Christmas day, two weeks ago. Almost two weeks ago, she was alive, she was breathing, she was happy. To imagine life absent of her is difficult for me, but I know it is excruciating to my mother and her siblings, and in particular to Aunt Cathy's husband, children, and grandchildren.

Nothing puts life in perspective so much as death. I found my recent concerns and worries fade away against the stark reality of her death. Nothing matters more than life in this world. Aunt Cathy is a beloved member of my mother's family, she was funny (extremely funny), and to me, there was something endearing about her. This "something" is common among all of the siblings of my mother. I can't quite describe it, but it is a common "atmosphere", a charm and loveliness that stems from their own father and mother, my deceased grandparents.

Not much else can be said from my end. Suffice it to say though, that I am amazed at the unselfish sorrow of my mother. She is not placing blame anywhere, least of all God. She suffers, and yet is good enough to know that Aunt Cathy is where she needs to be now. The thought that occurrs to me most right now is the part in the funeral Mass where it is said: "The sadness of death gives way to the bright promise of immortality. Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended...". Nothing can be more true than this.

Infinite Mercy

Author's Note:


So this one time, I prayed for humility. And God, in His infinite wisdom, decided that instead of simply giving me this grace, He would provide an opportunity for me to grow in humility -- in and through my own freedom. See, God made my heart, so He knows it better than anyone, myself included. He knows that I am a sucker for beauty, and that when I experience beauty in my life, I HAVE to share it with others. (Just ask anyone who ever checks my Facebook status!) So a few weeks ago, God gave me THE MOST beautiful day -- honestly, it sticks out as one of the year's best! -- BUT in order to share this beauty as my heart demands, I must humble myself and admit to my own selfish haste, my severe impatience, my general unpreparedness... things we all struggle with, but which take a little humility to admit publicly. 


But, as always... beauty wins my heart, and I must share! (1 John 1:4) 

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In a conversation a few weeks ago, a friend brought up the fact that she sees even the smallest, most ordinary happenings -- like hitting all the green lights -- as God's mercy in her life. Sure, God shows His love in an abundance of ways, and in the grand scheme of life and all of creation, green lights are really not all that important. But as she pointed out, the gift of arriving at work on time and starting the day off in the correct mindset instead of in a hurried rush of chaos... there is mercy in that.

A few days later -- Friday -- it was my turn.

Monday Morning Quarterbacks

Hindsight is always 20/20. There are thousands of examples of people who say "if only they had done this, this never would have happened". Or when we look at our lives, there is always something that we wish we could have changed. The truth of it, though, is that more often than not, those in charge of a sensitive situation did the best they could with the hand they were dealt, and we would have done no better if we were them. What am I thinking of in particular? I am thinking of the rather mean-spirited people who denounce Church leadership, and howl like wild monkeys that the Church should have handled the sex abuse cases better or differently. Are they right? Yes. The Church should have done better. Did the Church do better? No. Our leaders did what they thought was right at the time, and that is all we can ask for. Perhaps not all of the information was present to them at the time, or perhaps at worst, some Bishops knew but chose to do nothing, hoping the matter would resolve itself in the private sector. Was that wrong? Yes. Can we change what happened? No. But we can prepare better for the future. The howling baboons beating the ground with their palms and screeching for blood need to be caged for a time until they settle down and think for a moment. Punishment must be dealed out, and preparations must be made so it does not happen ever again. But for the vengeful ones whose thirst for blood is never quenched, I believe darker forces are at work in their sad, sick hearts.