These past weeks of Lent we've been coping with the unexpected turn of events with Covid-19. And yet as we've grappled with all the changes and unknowns, and prepared for these last days of Holy Week, hopefully it feels like we're a bit more in touch with our own hearts. Lent is such a grace in this way.
But it's also hard, isn't it? As the old is stripped away, my perfectionist heart squirms with the deeper realization that I don't always live up to the life that God hopes for me.
Like the fact that I lose my patience with my co-workers. I fail to practice charity in my family. I gossip under the guise of compassion. I don't truly listen. I'm quick to criticize others for their faults, full of indignation that I'd never do the horrible-terrible-ugly thing that they just did.
When I read about Saint Peter and about Judas (see John 13:21-28), I think that I'd never fall in the ways that they did. I imagine that if I was in their shoes I would be brave, steadfast, clear-headed, and faithful. I would be a perfect apostle, through and through.
Thanks be to God for my conscience, which pricks at my heart and reminds me of that time five minutes ago that I failed to live according to His call on my life. Blushed and shame-faced I discover (again) that I am just like them.
And yet He sees the greatness in me, taking me into the safety of His shadow, upholding me, always having my back. Even when I spin my wheels in the mud of life, He sees me not only as His servant, but as a "true light to the nations" (see Isaiah 49:1-6).
Little, imperfect me. Called to greatness.
This week, Sisters, we're walking toward Calvary. It can be easy to feel swallowed up in our sins because without Him we would be. But He doesn't wish this for you or for me. Keep your eyes on Him, and sing of His salvation.
Little, imperfect me. Called to greatness. // Karen SchultzClick to tweet
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Karen Schultz hails from the Land of 10,000 lakes, where she is often found in or near one of them. As a doula, lactation educator, and FertilityCare Practitioner, she finds joy in helping women to embrace the gift of their bodies. Downtime is found in quiet adoration chapels, farmers markets and gardens, listening to bluegrass music, and embracing the diversity of Minnesota’s seasons. She is a contributing author to our Works of Mercy Study: Misericordia. You can find out more about her here.