I was very determined that we get to Mass last weekend on the 13th as it was the anniversary of the Fatima apparitions and the Miracle of the Sun. I had a couple of things riding on my heart – the Holy Souls, a by-election that worried us, and thanksgiving – and I wanted to get to church to lay my prayer cart down before God.
I don’t know what happened once we entered our pew. I prayed but it felt like I hadn’t. I forgot the prayer cart and I forgot God. I usually spend some time gazing at the Divine Mercy image to the left of the altar, but that day, I clean forgot. I could barely still myself. The air-conditioning in the church was turned up and the kids jostled to sit as close to us as possible. Then, they nudged and poked and squirmed in their seats – even the ones old enough to know better. Trying to stifle my own giggles, I played referee out of the side of my mouth until Mass began.
When Mass began, I was disappointed that I hadn’t stilled and emptied myself as I usually do. It had been a hard work week and harder ones lay ahead. I needed to empty myself of me and be filled with all of God for the challenges and battles that awaited me. Instead, I allowed myself to get distracted. I felt I had squandered the precious minutes to immerse myself in God’s stillness. I ‘went into Mass’ with my heart left outside the door. I couldn’t ‘feel’ the Readings nor the prayers.
When Father’s homily veered towards our church finances, I smothered an impatient sigh and kept my attention riveted on him and his words.
But an Unseen hand took my chin and turned my face towards the Divine Mercy image off to the side of the church.
It happened twice.
And twice, I saw not the image of Jesus. My eyes only saw the words,
Jesus, I trust in You.
Today, it’s been just 2 work days since Jesus told me to trust Him but they have been 72-hour days in terms of skirmishes, struggles with myself and the sheer amount of work. Just 2 days but the number of times I’ve asked, God, where are You? has surely exceeded the number of hours in those days.
Each time, like a light trying to shine out of a deepening fog, Someone pushed these words before my heart,
Jesus, I trust in You.
I’ve gone to quite a few of my usual spiritual pools but none have yielded an answering strength. I don’t exactly feel the strength from Jesus, I trust in You, but somehow, something in my spirit tells me I have to fix my heart upon that.
Because with each day, despite my cheer and energy, despite the work that gets done, there’s no ignoring the fact that my workplace situation is worsening. I’m not sure how long I can hold on. I have no place else to go without uprooting the whole family. It’s hard to hold on to hope when you’re chained to the gates of Hell.
But that wan Light, Jesus, I trust in You, is still being shone through the shifting twilight mists, willing me on, despite every stumble and fall.