Holy Week

It begins with the *long* reading of the Passion of Christ at Palm Sunday Mass. Somewhere between silently cursing myself for wearing heels and trying to prevent Anastasia from continuously whacking the lady in front of us with her palm, I am struck by the power of Scripture's recount of Christ's ultimate act of Love. I never failed to be shocked at how quickly we turn from "Hosanna to the King of Kings" to "Crucify Him!" I am saddened that is it not simply a story in history but rather a testimony of my own attitude.

Suddenly I realize that Lent has flown by, and am tempted to be discouraged by a sense that I have not done enough. I have not sacrificed enough. I have not challenged myself enough. It can't be this close to Easter, I'm not a saint yet! This is the devil at work, and I refuse to be mastered by despair. Instead, I remember that the Lenten journey does not make us saints no matter how hard we try, or don't. Have I grown closer to my Lord? Have I emptied myself in whatever little way I can to make room for Him to fill me? My failures are mine to own, and it does not change the growth that has happened. Christ has used my frail efforts and has blessed them.

I will use the rest of this week not to try to make up for what I feel is lacking, but rather to simply continue opening myself to Him. I will contemplate the great Mystery of His Unconditional Love for us. I will continue my tiny, seemingly insignificant sacrifice to enter into His Sacrifice.