You know the kind I mean. At some point we're lying there in bed suffering from the flu or a terrible sinus headache, not really convinced that we might not die, and we issue the directive, "Either heal me or take me now, Jesus." And we mean it ... because we have never felt so terrible ... ever.
Ok, somewhere deep in the recesses of our minds we know we're not gonna die. We know that another and better day will dawn; maybe even this very day will improve. But, personally, that is a time when I am not about thinking. I am all about feeling. That is when it is very, very good to be a Catholic. We're told that our suffering is never wasted if we offer it up for others, following Jesus' example. All we have to do is to be able to remember it at that point.
This morning, with a sinus headache that made my pillow feel hard, I had some first-class suffering to offer up. And I have a friend in dire need who I could offer it up for. So I lay there, struggling my way through the rosary, forgetting what I was doing because I moved my head and that might have been the very moment when Jesus was coming to take me because I felt as if I was dying ... and then getting back to it. And you know what? It helped me too because I had my mind, such as it was, on something besides how I felt. No matter how horrible I felt that allergy pill and aspirin were going to kick in eventually and my friend has no such options. Her problems are so much worse.
I made it all the way through the rosary and eventually that aspirin did kick in. Another lesson in gratitude was mine. Not only do I appreciate my good health but I also am glad for all those little annoyances of everyday life ... the ones that I try to let slide off my back and offer up for various causes. If not for that daily practice I am not sure I would have remembered to offer up the big one this morning. Which not only helped my friend, it helped me. No wonder I'm happy to be Catholic.
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