I went to pray today. I pray every day in small ways and large ways. I often find – mostly find – I am better at the small ways. You know, those moments where I turn to God in my anxiousness or in my anxiety over a situation, or in my fear, or depression, or in my weakness, or within an illness and I allow myself – just for a moment – to become what I hate the most, vulnerable. I allow God to come and remind me of hope and grace. I leave those moments refreshed and empowered to move forward, even if I remain fearful.

Things fall apart. It is difficult in life to keep up appearances forever. Things grow old and dusty, and it is hard to keep things in life clean and polished and perfect forever. People come, and people go. Folks love you and then they hurt you. In our lives we have all had the experience of being with relatives, friends or neighbors and discovering that they are not who they used to be. Food stains on the clothing that go unnoticed, garbage left forgotten on the floor, and personal hygiene which has failed are some of the sad realities of life. “Behold, I make all things new,” God says. A new heaven and a new earth will be created, and the dead will rise from their graves. The resurrection of Jesus is everything and comes to us in our daily resurrections, too!

I think that is the power of acknowledging we are weak. And, allowing those moments of great weakness to find hope in Another, not within ourselves where we are broken. This past week, I was ill and had a course of antibiotics that took their toll on me. I couldn’t CrossFit or find my balance and I slept more and did less, but, then I realized, I was praying more! I allowed my weakness to become my strength.

This morning, when I went to pray, I needed my Blessed Mother. So, I went to find a copy of The Litany to the Guadalupe that I have on my desk at the parish, I knew I also had a copy at home, but where did I lay it? Then I stumbled across it within a closet! There it was, on the top shelf, covered with a strong coating of dust. And there was the lesson: even dirty, dust covered, sinful and broken, God is and still loves me. She reminded me of that. I pray I remind you now, too.

St. Francis reminds us in his words, “Pure, holy simplicity confounds all the wisdom of this world and the wisdom of the flesh.”

May we not forget to be confounded by the lovely grace of God every day as we celebrate His love for us, dust covered and all…