My parents, in their early marriage, were somewhat competitive. I won't go into the history, suffice it to say that their dear priest friend sat them down during a visit he was making to our home and told them that they needed a new motto: Presume Good Will. This has been a mantra in our family for a long time, and it certainly gets at that part of me that wants to be uncharitable and suspicious.
Why on earth can it be so hard to presume good will with some people? I think part of it is that I'm convinced that certain people either have it in for me or just don't care one way or the other. Also, there are those whose stated motto is Look Out for Number One. These people make it awfully hard to presume good will about them, since they often don't have good will...at least not for anyone but themselves.
But I don't think that lets me off the hook. I mean, Jesus didn't tell us to love our neighbors *and* our enemies when it seemed like they had good will. He didn't put conditions on it. We just had to do it. And since obedience is a virtue that I'm struggling to teach my almost-4-year-old, it seems right and natural that I would be struggling with this particular command.
"But Jesus, the last time I saw that person, he messed up my day in 12 different ways...before noon!"
"Okay, fine, Jesus, I heard you. Just let me finish venting about how much I can't stand that person. Then I'll be charitable. Just a minute. I'm almost done."
"Can I just set aside one of the fifty things that I was going to complain about? I'll save it for later. Then I can be charitable now, but have something to fall back on later, because I know that person is a no-good sumgum."
I can imagine that Our Lord is getting fed up with me. I can't stand having direct orders questioned, blathered about, ignored, put off, etc. So thank God He has infinite powers, because otherwise I'd be testing his patience this week!
Okay, Lord, I'll work on it now.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Patience
Again. I have to say that patience is the virtue that I have the hardest time keeping a big enough supply of around here. For some reason, it's like...well, what's the ingredient that I'm most likely to be out of when I go to make a recipe? Something perishable, like cilantro. Come to think of it, that's a great analogy, because once you put cilantro in a bag in the fridge, it's good for about 2 days. Then it starts to stink and exude brown stuff. Yuck.
And it's an even better analogy because, good heavens, that stuff makes so many things so much better! Like patience. Hmm. I have to say, I love cilantro. It's difficult for me to understand those who don't like it -- and if someone doesn't like cilantro, often they really don't like it.
But I digress. Cilantro is also pretty easy to grow oneself. I have grown quite a bit this season, and it's so rewarding. I just went out back and clipped a bit here for guacamole, a bit here for salsa, a bit here for salad. MMM. This way, too, I didn't have brown-goo syndrome in my refrigerator, which is terribly sad. Why DO they sell so much at one go? Does anyone really use that much cilantro before it goes bad?
This is another thing about patience: it's much better to grow your own than to try to count on an emergency prayer here or there in order to get it...you may just find brown goo instead. I often seem to. So I should learn a lesson from my cilantro: work on growing (with God' help, of course) a good supply of my very own patience, to be used when necessary. It definitely makes most things better.
Some of my cilantro has now gone to seed, and I'm looking forward to collecting those seeds to keep growing my own cilantro. Another good lesson: let your patience grow so much that it creates flowers and then seeds. This way, you have a stash of mature patience, you can use the seeds to grow more, and you can -- with proper tending -- use your store of patience to create (with God's help, of course) more of the patience that you need.
I have two cilantro plants that I haven't planted in the garden yet. They're not terribly robust and need LOTS of watering, since it's the heat of the summer and they're in tiny little pots on the deck. Again, another good lesson about patience -- or really any virtue: connect this virtue with the rest of your spiritual life so that it gets lots of nutrients from your regular (hopefully) sacramental life. Don't consider an outsider, adopt it into yourself and try to make it a part of you.
There, I'm convinced. Cilantro is one of the best herbs -- tasty and instructive!
So the next time I'm tempted to yell at my daughter for behaving like a baby (okay, she's only 3!) and making me late...for Mass (yes, always good to preface an attempt to get to daily Mass with lots of yelling; you'll feel especially foolish when you get to the church and discover that there isn't Mass today. Just saying.)...I'll remember the lessons of cilantro.
And it's an even better analogy because, good heavens, that stuff makes so many things so much better! Like patience. Hmm. I have to say, I love cilantro. It's difficult for me to understand those who don't like it -- and if someone doesn't like cilantro, often they really don't like it.
But I digress. Cilantro is also pretty easy to grow oneself. I have grown quite a bit this season, and it's so rewarding. I just went out back and clipped a bit here for guacamole, a bit here for salsa, a bit here for salad. MMM. This way, too, I didn't have brown-goo syndrome in my refrigerator, which is terribly sad. Why DO they sell so much at one go? Does anyone really use that much cilantro before it goes bad?
This is another thing about patience: it's much better to grow your own than to try to count on an emergency prayer here or there in order to get it...you may just find brown goo instead. I often seem to. So I should learn a lesson from my cilantro: work on growing (with God' help, of course) a good supply of my very own patience, to be used when necessary. It definitely makes most things better.
Some of my cilantro has now gone to seed, and I'm looking forward to collecting those seeds to keep growing my own cilantro. Another good lesson: let your patience grow so much that it creates flowers and then seeds. This way, you have a stash of mature patience, you can use the seeds to grow more, and you can -- with proper tending -- use your store of patience to create (with God's help, of course) more of the patience that you need.
I have two cilantro plants that I haven't planted in the garden yet. They're not terribly robust and need LOTS of watering, since it's the heat of the summer and they're in tiny little pots on the deck. Again, another good lesson about patience -- or really any virtue: connect this virtue with the rest of your spiritual life so that it gets lots of nutrients from your regular (hopefully) sacramental life. Don't consider an outsider, adopt it into yourself and try to make it a part of you.
There, I'm convinced. Cilantro is one of the best herbs -- tasty and instructive!
So the next time I'm tempted to yell at my daughter for behaving like a baby (okay, she's only 3!) and making me late...for Mass (yes, always good to preface an attempt to get to daily Mass with lots of yelling; you'll feel especially foolish when you get to the church and discover that there isn't Mass today. Just saying.)...I'll remember the lessons of cilantro.
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