Right Where God Wants Me (I think)

Holy Week has begun.


"Then they crucified him." -Mark 15:24

Last week, in my "Little Black Book" (a daily reflection book) it talked about this verse in the bible. It talked about how nowadays, if this happened, there would be news coverage and we would see all the details. There would be reporters all over Golgotha, helicopters overhead, and those reporters would be interviewing all passers-by. We would hear everything and see everything. But the Gospels don't describe things in that detail. all they say is "Then they crucified him." Most people in those days had seen crucifixions and didn't need those details. "Then they crucified him." is all they needed.


That word gives me chills. Crucify. It's a chilling word. During the Passion narrative it always, I guess the best way to describe it is, it always hurts my ears to hear "Crucify him! Crucify him!".


I was recently asked "How is your lent going?" I grimaced and said "well, not the way I'd like it to be going..." She looked at me and looked at the sacrifice jar and the kiddos coloring path to Easter and I could tell she didn't get it.


For the kids, I think lent was great. We didn't do as many things as I'd have liked to have done, but we did do alot.


For me though, I wanted it to be more....fruitful. I wanted to have prayed more, to have gone to daily Mass, gone to Adoration, you know, the things that I should be striving to do anyway, always, not just during lent.


This is the yearning I always seem to have. The yearning to be holy and do holy things. I look back at last year's lent. I was pregnant with a broken leg. God laid it out for me. He humbled me. He gave me my lent. He helped me to appreciate so many things in my life. Things like cleaning my own home, preparing meals, walking to the park, giving my littles baths, driving, shopping, and LAUNDRY!!


This is where I am right now, in the midst of these menial seeming tasks. With 5 children growing and changing with each season. This is where God wants me right now.


Last night, I sat down to nurse Sweetie Pie and watch The Passion of the Christ. It was to the part where Jesus was almost breathing His last breath, the part where I have a big headache from crying so much. Here I am thinking "I'm starting my holy week great, I'm getting into the mode of sacrifice. Jesus is going to be on my mind. This is good."


Well, Ballerina Rosie (my 7 1/2 year old) comes down sits on the floor (I shut off the movie) and says "my back hurts." (I now know, she meant "tummy") I said, (thinking she just wants to be up with me and wants to watch the movie I won't let her watch), "Honey, sitting on the floor is not going to help it, go back to bed." She runs up the stairs. I start my movie again, within 30 seconds, I heard her jump out of her bed again, go to the stairs and then I heard a weird splash sound, followed by "I threw up!" I jumped up, ripping Sweetie from my breast, and trying to cover up, ran to the stairs, to find my daughter sitting on 2nd step from the top. I commanded "get in the bathroom!" I barely got that out, when she did it again.


OK, here's where sinful me appears in full glory. I got mad. I yelled. I was not compassionate. I would have been compassionate if she'd made it to the bathroom for the 2nd time, but 2 times in the exact spot? I just couldn't understand why my almost 8 year old couldn't make it to the bathroom, why common sense didn't tell her to do so. Now, I said she was at the 2nd step, right? There was lots of puke on the next 3 steps, (lots) and puke on every step all the way down to the bottom, puke on the wall and on every spindle, yes EVERY spindle.

She got to the bathroom for the 3rd time. She had puke on her clothes, in her hair and well, she needed a shower, so while she showered, I tried to start. Sweetie Pie is crying the whole time for this. I start to get madder and madder. I had asked my husband to get up to help. I meant with the baby, he should know that! OK, she only stops crying if I'm holding her, but I am splattered with puke. I have a mess to clean up. I commanded hubby to clean the floor at the bottom of the stairs and the wall. While I tried to get every other step. I'm starting to get madder, "Why did he buy the kids that candy at the circus we went to tonight? I never buy the kids candy? Why am I the only one that can stop the baby from crying? Why do I have to clean up all of this? I was watching a movie about Jesus! Why is this happening? Why don't I feel remorse for the way I am yelling and acting?"


Well, after cleanup & showers, Ballerina Rosie settled with a bucket and sleeping bag on our floor & baby nursing at breast, it was 1am. I still was not feeling any remorse. I still was asking "why?" I was asking "what do You want from me Lord for holy week?" and "Help me to not be angry with my husband, he was just staying away from my tantrum!" No answers. I knew I just had to go to sleep and take what came the next day. Today.


While feeding the baby again this morning, about 10am, I realized (OK, I'm a little slow), that God wants me right where I am. In the midst of it all. Lent and holy week are not what I want them to be, they are what God wants them to be. I am reminded now every time I use the stairs and have to smell the nasty smell (working on fixing that one), and look at my stained carpet, that God wants me right here. Right where I am. Striving always to do better, to keep that yearning alive because "our hearts are restless til they rest with God"


Today.
Today I am hugging my almost 8 year old girl just a little more. And I am anxiously awaiting for my husband to come home for a hug and an apology.


I wish you holiness this week, the holiest week of the year. May you find yourself right where God wants you to be. (hopefully without the puke)