Woosh. It’s Thursday already? Zomg, y’all. This has been a very stressful week, week and a half. If you’re finding yourself with 20 minutes you literally cannot figure out how to spend, my article this week at Aleteia briefly (you’re welcome) talks about it.
This week, still hooking up with Abbey and her #holylens project, the prompt is “rich”.
I will not lie to you. In a few hours, I’m going to pick up my still sick dog from the vet, where she’s been hospitalized for three days. One week, four different antibiotics, and countless tests later, they still don’t know what is wrong with her or how to fix her. And I’m looking at a bill that will be close to $1,000.
One thousand dollars, y’all. Thank God she got sick around tax return time, I guess.
But it’s good, since it’s really making me dig deep to find the riches in my life, and I don’t have to dig all that deep at all. All of us here are on the mend, and the gift of good health is not something to be viewed lightly. My mom literally dropped everything to get on an airplane this morning to come help out, and the gift of a loving family is not something to be viewed lightly. I’m fighting with my husband to give his body time to heal and take another sick day, and he’s resisting, and the gift of a steady job, and a husband who is such a spectacular provider is not something to be viewed lightly.
I have a house and food and a loving family and good health. I am rich beyond anything I deserve.
And the greatest treasure I own, the crowning jewel in the embarrassment of riches in my possession:
(aside: does your parish have a “freebie table”? Our does. It’s a place where people put rosaries and prayer cards and all sorts of things they don’t want to throw away, but don’t want around anymore. One day, there was a Crucifix on the table. A cheap, shabby Crucifix with the cheap Corpus mounted on something even worse than particle board. Lotus and I were going in for daily Mass, and it seemed so sad, that abandoned Crucifix on the freebie table, that I told Lotus if it was still there at the end of Mass, we’d take it home. It was, and we did, and I asked Ken if he could remove the Corpus and mount it on a proper cross.
Ken went and got some bubinga he’d always wanted to work with, spent hours on a new cross, and then sorrowfully re-nailed the Corpus to the new cross. And now it’s in our entryway, so every time I pass it, I can see how God delights in elevating the humble to something beautiful.)