Grudgingly

I'm holding a grudge.

OK, I'm holding many grudges. I'm good at multitasking that way, and my superpower is hanging onto a hurt/annoyance/outrage and blowing it out of proportion.

Holy Mountains-out-of-Molehills, Batman!

But even I knew that this one particular grudge was getting out of hand when I started to consider going out of my way to avoid something that the Grudge-Target and I both enjoy, because it reminds me of said Grudge-Target.

Can you say, "What, are we in middle school?"

Just for the sake of example, let's say that the Thing We Enjoy is root beer. (Because it's not. I can't stand root beer. But it works in this story).

Root beer is widely and conveniently available. Therefore, reminders that root beer exists happen quite frequently. When I am reminded that root beer exists, I am reminded of the Grudge-Target and how this person likes root beer.

And here's where my Inner Middle-Schooler is tempted to avoid choosing root beer, even though I like it, because the Grudge-Target likes it too.

I have a fear that if I bring this up in confession, Father will just laugh at me, because he has no idea what it's like to be a middle-school girl.

At the moment, making peace with the Grudge-Target may not be possible. But I have decided that it's ridiculous of me to stop drinking root beer just because it reminds me of someone with whom I have a conflict.

I need to do something else instead. I need to pray for the Grudge-Target. I need to pray for myself, too, that I will have the courage and strength and grace needed to make peace with this person.

So I have resolved that each time I have a root beer, I will pray. May God bless me with the grace to forgive, and may He bless the Grudge Target as well.

I Confess

I fail at Confession.

Sometimes I feel like Confession fails me.

I definitely have to stop attending those "communal Penance services." It's like drive-by Confession, and it's never a good experience--which is why I let two or three years go by between Confessions, until I feel absolutely driven to seek absolution, and I drag myself there.

For me, "communal Penance services" are a near occasion of sin. (So why do I go? Because they're not on Saturday afternoons, which are always so nutty that I can never manage to get to Confession for the 45 minutes our parish offers it at that time.)

If it were up to me, these services would be simple affairs consisting of a hymn or two, a Scripture reading or two, and a short homily from Father explaining how to make a good examination of conscience. After that, everyone lines up for Confession.

Here's how it went last night:

• Arrive and find a pew. Listen to announcement by cantor that if you forgot a "worship aid" you should raise your hand and a "team member" would bring one to you.
• Hymn, Liturgy of the Word, prayer.
• A combination skit/prayer/examination of conscience in which 6 costumed actors represented Isaiah, John the Baptist, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary and Jesus and lectors read prayers relating the examination of conscience to each of these Biblical figures.
• Lineup for Confession. After the initial scramble to get in line for your favorite priest, I waited 40 minutes, only to end up with the hard-of-hearing priest who was older than Moses and looked like he might not survive the night. (Good thing the church has its own defibrillator. I was afraid we might have to use it.)
• Parting gift. After absolution, Father handed me a handy-dandy refrigerator magnet "to remember this evening by."

I don't need "worship aids," "team members," costumed actors with props, and refrigerator magnets. And frankly, I don't want them. For me, they get in the way.

I know I shouldn't be snarky, and I'll need to go to Confession again over that. To be fair, the service was well-done. Good music, well-prepared readers, good flow. But it felt like a performance, not a prelude to a sacrament.

In the end, the grace of the sacrament is enough--which brings to mind this prayer by St. Ignatius of Loyola:

Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my will; all that I have and possess. You have given them to me; to you, O Lord, I restore them. All things are yours: Dispose of them according to your will. Give me your love and your grace; for this is enough for me.

Inspiring Me Today

Great affairs do not disturb us so much as a great number of little ones; therefore, receive these also with calmness, and try to attend to them in order, one after another, without perturbation. Thus, you will gain great merit by them. -- St. Francis de Sales

I found this very timely quote over at Faith & Family Live.  While blogger Kelly Dolin was discussing life with toddlers, it's no less true when you've got teens and grade-schoolers in the house.

After I found myself defeated, again and again, by the "little things" this week, I need the inspiration.  It's not like there have been any major crises.  But it's been a tough week, that has included:

• Little Brother running a fever of 103.7, complete with a spell of vomiting.
• An extended-family medical issue that culminated in a 2-day houseguest.
• A bunch of teenagers who don't follow the "say hello to the adult at home" rule when they show up to swim.  They also don't bring their own towels, and they empty my porch refrigerator of all beverages.  And they leave their mess behind.
• A teenager (yet to be identified) who thinks it's funny to spell out one of George Carlin's "7 words you can't say on TV" with the ABC magnets we keep near the porch refrigerator.  (Usually those are used to wish a friend a happy birthday.)
• Adventure Boy vomiting on the pool deck (but fortunately not in the pool itself.)

It hasn't been pretty, and I haven't handled all of this well.  And some of it's not over yet.  Now we have to play hardball with a bunch of 15-year-olds until someone apologizes for his use of filthy vocabulary and lack of respect of us and our daughter.

I think I'm going to have to pull out my Francis de Sales book and see if he has any more advice for people like me, who can handle big things pretty well, but let the little things pile up and pile up and pile up until they lose it completely.  It's going to be a long summer, and I'll need all the grace I can get.