Jesus Wants Me to Be Here

Jesus wants me to be here. I had nothing else to say or to feel but gratitude and happiness. He wants me to be here, in his presence, which is something, I’m sorry to say, had not occurred to me in a long time.

This summer, for a number of reasons, has been a distant one for me and God. So many Sunday mornings spent in the little cry booth at our church, which is unventilated and heavily populated. For the first time in my adult life I have considered leaving a Mass. I actually didn’t want to be there, sat in that booth, unable to breastfeed a squeaky baby because of a well-intentioned Dad who was giving his wife a chance to pray in the Sanctuary. The quarters were too close, the baby too likely to lift my shirt of his own accord, and I was grousing through the Eucharistic prayer, and thought I might just leave. What’s the point?

He wants me to be here.

Whether I receive the Eucharist or not, whether I pray well or not, whether I have confessed my sins or not, whether I’m loving the people around me or wanting to wrench them. Just be there—sit it out, and the grace will come—maybe in the shape of a petite gray haired woman who has nothing else on her agenda but to do me a wholly unwarranted kindness.

Go read Betty Duffy's post about going to adoration. It is evocative to me of many things from the Beyond Cana retreat this weekend as we were surrounded by young parents who struggle to find time for prayer amidst the seething that young children can do in church. I also treasure it as a reminder for every one of us. None of us remember it enough no matter what our circumstances. We don't have to have young children to think, "What's the point?" Thanks Betty for reminding me ...  Jesus wants me to be here.