Saturday, April 15, 2017

When Holy Week Doesn't Go as Planned

It's a quiet morning over here, which I think is fitting for Holy Saturday. The day when Christ lay in the tomb, silent and still. It is a reflective sort of morning, a chance to pray and think on how God has been at work. It is not Easter yet, so we are holding off from breaking out candy, treats, and festivities until the Vigil Mass tonight, when the bonfire is lit, candles are held aloft, and together we sing the Gloria with our fellow parishioners. 

I look back over this past week, and marvel at how God's plans are always so much better than my own. 

Originally, I had marvelous plans for Holy Week-I was going to finish off 40 Bags in 40 Days and finally take that one bag of items to the crisis pregnancy center. I was going to make special foods to kick off the Triduum. I was going to blog and write articles and clean the apartment thoroughly and spend tons of time reading and reflecting on Scriptures in silence. 

But what actually happened? 

I got sick. Nothing too major, but when one is caring for an active 10-month-old baby, even a horrible sore throat, runny nose, and fatigue can be tricky to deal with. Seriously, having to blow your nose while holding a baby who refuses to play on the floor? It's a little tricky, at least for me. While this whole experience was kind of lame, it was also really, really good for me during Holy Week. 

I like to get things done, and I like to follow the plans that I have made. I rarely get sick, so spending a large part of the week like this was very humbling, and a great reminder that my plans are not the best plans. It was also a really good way to unite myself to Christ as I meditated on His sufferings. As I yawned with exhaustion and watched a baby who refused to nap when I wanted to, I thought about how EASY I had it. This was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the exhaustion that Christ had when He underwent the Passion. Even though my little trials this week were measly compared to the Passion, I could still offer them up to Christ as a sacrifice of love for those who needed the prayers. 

On Friday, as I prayed the Stations of the Cross at home, St. Faustina's words really struck me:
Jesus, I thank You for the little daily crosses, for opposition to my endeavors, for the hardships of communal life, for the misinterpretation of my intentions, for humiliations at the hands of others, for the harsh way in which we are treated, for false suspicions, for poor health and loss of strength, for self-denial, for dying to myself, for lack of recognition in everything, for the upsetting of all my plans (#343).  
I tried to really pray this in a heartfelt way-and do you know what? While being sick wasn't any fun, and while I missed not going to the Mass on Holy Thursday (I was not feeling up to it and my awesome husband took the baby to Mass so I could rest), I wasn't as upset about being sick this week as I expected. I certainly grumbled a little more than I should, but overall, it was a very peaceful week. 

That being said, I am extremely happy that I'm feeling much better :) 

It's been a beautiful Holy Week, but I am very excited to celebrate the Resurrection with my husband and son at the Vigil tonight! (Am I insane for wanting to take a 10-month-old to the Vigil? Maybe...)

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