From My Lips to God's Ears

As I sat in my church's cry room with the girls (Fiver was in the parish hall for "church school"), I tried to focus on the readings and the homily. The girls' behavior was not really the problem, although Sally was getting a little over zealous with her singing and hymnal banging. The problem is that the cry room is little more than an airless box with a window. You can fit about six people total inside, and it is tucked away upstairs behind the choir loft. Rob calls it the "Holy Trinity Sky Box." There is a speaker inside that is supposed to pipe the priest's words right in to you, but it may or may not work depending on the weather, the time of day, or the phase of the moon. Getting to hear Mass is dicey, is what I'm saying.

We also had another family squeezed in there with us, and their little guy was even more vocal than my little girl. And he was more verbal, which is always more fun. He kept asking his mom if they were going apple picking when they were done, and if Jesus would be there. I hear Jesus loves Him some apples.

Between Sally being moved by the Spirit, and the ongoing debate regarding Jesus' schedule and whether or not it permits apple picking, I was having a hard time hearing anything, let alone paying attention and getting some valuable life lessons for the week. I did hear most of the Gospel, but the homily was getting away from me and I started resigning myself to contemplating the readings at home when the kids were asleep.

And then God spoke right into my ear. He sounded a lot like our priest, Fr. Scott, but I know He was talking to me. The speaker reception was crystal clear, Sally stopped singing, and our little friend stopped wondering about meeting up with Jesus at the orchard. This is what I heard:

If the only thing that you can do is to come humbly before your
God and admit that you do not have it all
together, then you are doing the right
thing.

I almost started crying, because I most certainly do not have it all together. I get bits and pieces of it together, but never ever at the same time. To know that God doesn't expect me to have it all together is a huge relief. Especially this week.

As soon as those words were out, the speaker started crackling and Sally started singing again. I lost most of the rest of the homily, but I know I got the part that was meant for me.

But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his
eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, 'O God, be merciful to me a
sinner.' I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former; for whoever
exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be
exalted. Luke 18:9-14