In the mire of ordinariness I am simply forgetting how extraordinary is my God…
I live an ordinary life.
I am a daughter and a sister and a wife and a mother and a friend.
I work in an ordinary job and have an ordinary family.
When I die things will happen in an ordinary way.
That means that I will die and when my family see my dead body, they will cry tears over it and may offer some prayers for the repose of my soul. Within a few hours they will leave me behind and perhaps will congregate at the home of one of my family members (my husband’s home – if he survives me, or the home of one of my children).
Within a day my funeral will be arranged, an undertaker will take control of my body, and they will guide my family on making the necessary arrangements. Within a few days there will be a requiem Mass, and my family and friends will gather to pray for the repose of my soul. That day my body will be interred into the ground, and I will become part of the dust from which I have come… During that day, some of the mourners might make conversation with my family about some current affairs, and my family might even smile between their tears.
Within a week, my children will return to their work as their bereavement leave will be exhausted. Within a couple of weeks, my family will laugh about something funny that they have heard or watched.
Because I am a Maronite Catholic, within forty days, my “forty-day Mass” will be arranged and mourners will gather again to pray for the repose of my soul. This time there will be fewer tears and there will be more conversation about current affairs. There will be more smiles and more talking.
Within a few months people will stop using my name on a daily basis. Within a few years people will not think of me on a weekly basis. Within a decade I will be almost forgotten.
I am an ordinary Christian who lives an ordinary life. And this is course of my soul…
There will be nothing memorable that I contribute to the world. There will be nothing extraordinary that I achieve. And as my body turns to dust, so too will the memories of me.
And yet, despite all of this, I have been called to Sainthood in this ordinariness… Just as Christ was God for thirty years – though nobody would have noticed because He too lived an ordinary life. Saint Josemaria said in “Christ is passing by” at 14-15, “As with other events in his life, we should never contemplate Jesus' hidden years without feeling moved. We should realize that they are in themselves a call to shake off our selfishness and easy‑going ways.”
And it seems to me that in the mire of ordinariness I am simply forgetting how extraordinary is my God…
For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.
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