Lord, I am here
If someone asked me what my hobby were, I would answer ‘being busy’.
I love being busy. It is the element I thrive in. Over the past several years I have wired my mind in a way where if I am not doing something productive or to better myself, then I am lazy. Even if I am tired, I will always choose doing something over napping.
I am proud of my work ethic and drive to grow and be always ‘doing’. I wasn't always this way and it took me years to come to this point. But recently, I have been humbled in seeing how if I let it, it can become one of my greatest downfalls.
This past week my husband and I were very blessed with the opportunity to go to confession and receive the Eucharist. It had been almost three months since we had done so due to churches being closed and for me at least, it felt almost as if it were a ‘first date’ of some sort. I was nervous, giddy, excited, and my stomach was ever slightly queasy. Ah, butterflies.
I can’t remember the last time that I felt as good as I did after confession. Just getting everything off of my chest made my soul feel like it had gone through the washing machine.
Best. Feeling. Ever.
And then, it was time for the greatest moment of these past three months: it was time to receive the Eucharist.
I can’t find the words to express properly what I felt as I walked into the church after such a long time. And to make it even more memorable - the church organist was practicing Gregorian chant melodies on the organs. Candles were lit, the church was slightly dimmed, and the beautiful altar became the focal point. The priest had left out two kneelers for my husband and I. I burst into tears.
Lord, I am here.
The priest left to put on his vestments so that he could bring us Holy Communion while my husband and I were taking in the beauty around us.
A minute past, then two, then three, and before we knew it the priest had been gone for about ten minutes.
The first minute, I felt focused. The second minute, I was in deep reflection. The third minute, I noticed something different on the altar. The fourth minute, I remembered something I had to do. And by the fifth minute, I was making myself a list of things I had to get done when we got home.
Before I knew it, I had forgotten where I was.
Suddenly, and without warning, something came to my heart very strongly, almost as though I was hearing God Himself.
Well that's weird, considering my name isn’t Martha!
But the sentence continued.
“Focus on Me. I have been waiting for you.”
And I knew. That’s all it took.
And just like that, I was back.
I spent the rest of our time there opening my heart to the Lord, even though I was at a loss of what to say. I just listened. And to be honest, it was the best convo ever.
When I came home that evening, I was scrolling through social media, and I unexpectedly came across an image of Martha and the passage from Luke 10:38-42:
'As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”'
Funny how the Lord will do whatever it takes to get to us, even if it means through social media…🙃
And so, the past couple of days, when my little one goes down for a nap, I have allowed myself to indulge more in silence and prayer.
Listening more than speaking.
Being instead of doing.
And boy, does it ever feel good.
Sure, maybe being a Martha has its small perks. But being a Mary is priceless.