Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Drink This Cup

Elaina read at mass this morning. Just one little petition, but you would have thought from the commotion of my husband and I getting there and getting a sitter for Charlie, and making sure she looked adorable, and making sure she was ready to read the petition correctly, that she was addressing the nation. She did a wonderful job saying, "For all those who have died, let us pray to the Lord." I teared up, we silently clapped our hands and beamed over toward her as she took her seat and searched the crowd for our faces, which were found to be beaming and crying.

Because my daughter was reading today, and because that meant I made sure to have no distracting toddler with me, I was actually able to pay attention to the mass. Not only did I get to listen undistracted to the homily, but I was able to pay attention to the most important part of the mass, the Eucharist. Now, I have done mass at least once a week, usually more, for the majority of my life. So, why was it that today was the day that I heard something different. Why was it that today when the priest said, "Take this cup and drink it...." did I hear something more than I usually do? I usually hear it and think, Jesus wanted us to share in this experience with Him, bring Him into our lives, into our bodies so we can be like Him. But today I heard, "Take this cup." As in, "Share in my sacrifice." As in "Take this cup from Me and bear some of the burden." As in. "Take the cup away from someone else and drink it yourself." So, today, when I began to complain mostly internally and a little outwardly to my husband about the normal chaos of our busy lives with lots of kids and schedules and laundry and dishes etc.., I had to stop short, apologize and regroup. This is a small cup. This is nothing. This is not even a shot glass of burden. Every day we are given tiny drops of burden, droplets of tasks that we don't feel like drinking. Today I was told to drink them up. They are what makes us full. Every drop is just a part of life, a very full life worth drinking, even when it isn't the easiest. Until today I had not realized that I have barely let the cup touch my lips.

Also I don't want to forget:
-Elaina said, "Mom, you're going to have to wipe me off after I eat this. Some people in my class may be allergic to my face. (She was eating peanut butter)

-Elaina said, "Mom, are you going to park this baby in the lot and walk me across the street, or what?"
(She apparently thinks the rental car we are driving this week is quite cool)

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