Humility

If any of you have ever prayed the Litany of Humility, you'll know what I mean when I say that praying for humility can be dangerous.

Last week was the feast of St. Joseph, husband of Mary. I was meditating on the humility it would take to be the head of the Holy Family... The imperfect father and imperfect husband to a sinless wife and a son who is God.

In his homily Pope Francis said,

"How does Joseph exercise his role as protector? Discreetly, humbly and silently, but with an unfailing presence and utter fidelity, even when he finds it hard to understand. ... In the Gospels, Saint Joseph appears as a strong and courageous man, a working man, yet in his heart we see great tenderness, which is not the virtue of the weak but rather a sign of strength of spirit and a capacity for concern, for compassion, for genuine openness to others, for love. We must not be afraid of goodness, of tenderness!"

So, guess who made the "mistake" of asking for St. Joseph's intercession while praying for humility?

This girl.

Guess who went skiing the next day and got an avulsion fracture in her right knee?

This girl.

ie I'm in a full leg brace/immobilizer and on crutches :)

ie I can't kneel. I can't do zumba or kickboxing or run. I can't do laundry on my own. I can't swing dance. I can't do my rugged maniac 5k. I can't carry anything that doesn't fit in my little backpack. I have trouble doing normal things like showering or getting into bed. I can't put my right shoe on by myself. etc...

I've already learned a lot, though. I've learned how to go up and down stairs on crutches. I've learned that laminate flooring gets slippery for crutches when it's wet. I've learned that I don't mind not doing any of those things previously mentioned as long as I have Jesus. I've learned that this is a good opportunity to suffer joyfully and be a witness to the joy that comes from Christ. I've learned that sometimes we don't get to choose when we will be weak and when we won't... and that we need to accept the generosity of others as much as we need to be generous. I've learned the true meaning of surrendering my will to that of the Father. I've learned that we don't always get to pick our way of holiness... God will decide what it will take to make us a saint. I've learned that I have some great friends and family who are much more selfless than I am and that Jesus will be enough for me if I let Him.

My Wheelbarrow

It's only in admitting how weak we are and embracing it that we can witness the true power of God. Without admitting our own shortcomings we cannot begin to understand the strength of God working in and through us. or even allow the strength of God to work in us.

Over Thanksgiving break I went to visit my relatives in California, and during Mass heard a homily that rocked me to the core. I don't remember it well enough to quote it, but I'll try to summarize.

There was once an acrobat named Blondin. He was born in France in 1824. He was very talented and at the age of 5 became known as the Boy Wonder. He grew and learned and eventually moved to the United States to work with a circus.

In 1859 he decided to walk across Niagara Falls on a tightrope. He became very famous for this and people began to flock to the site to watch him. He began by walking across, but soon increased the difficulty by running across. Next, he went blindfolded across. He crossed on 6 foot tall stilts and then on a bicycle. All of these he did for a constantly growing crowd of fans who loved him. 

Then, he brought out a wheelbarrow. He asked his adoring crowd, "Do you think I can do it?" And they all cheered and applauded - encouraging him on. He asked again, and their response grew louder. He asked once more, "Do you think I can do it?" The crowd was going wild in their affirmation that they indeed believed in him.

Then, his question became, "Do you want to join me?" The cheers started to die down in confusion. He rephrased his question and wondered who would like to get in the wheelbarrow and come with him across, since they all had no doubt he could do it. When noone spoke up, he continued saying that he wasn't going to cross with the wheelbarrow unless someone got in it. As they became aware that he was indeed going to wait, they all waited. Then, one by one they started to tire of waiting and left, until he was standing alone with his wheelbarrow.

They all believed he could do it, but wouldn't act on that belief. He wouldn't do it without them, and since not one would act on their belief in him, he was kept from doing the crazy act of wheeling someone across the rope. Yet they claimed they thought he could do it. But did they?

Do I?

I see this as a metaphor to getting to Heaven. I can't get there on my own - I can't actually walk on a rope across the Niagara Falls, but Jesus can. And He is offering me a way over. It's scary. It's risking something to get in the wheelbarrow; someone else has my life in their hands. Do I actually believe He can do it? And if I do, do I act on that belief and get in? Do I trust the cross of Christ? Do I trust Christ pushing my wheelbarrow? If not, he won't act without me...

But if I do, think of the experience He wants to give me! On my own, I would never see the falls from that perspective, feel the excitement as the water rushes past me, feel the spray upon my face, get to the other side! But with Him, I can. I can allow Him to bring me to Heaven, to experience the joy of that journey here on earth, to get to the other side of death with Him! I can allow the crowd around me the joy and excitement of watching Him push someone across the falls in His wheelbarrow.

Do I get in the wheelbarrow?