I made cookies today. I managed to drop a full cup of Crisco shortening on the floor within the first few minutes. I handled it okay. But not like a saint.
I knocked over the largest glass of sweet tea you have ever seen . . . onto the floor and kitchen cabinets and oven door. I handled it poorly. Definitely not like a saint.
I ironed my husband's shirt, the green one that was supposed to be for Easter. I discovered a smattering of grease spots on it. All this after I had already pressed a portion of it and kept losing my grip on the Niagara Spray Starch. I picked up that can of starch and pounded it three times on the ironing board. Hard. The saints above had to be cringing.
I was angry. Nothing was going right. Not a single thing.
Tonight, I felt the weight of my need as I looked at the Cross. I say need because there are times when I realize how much I need God's grace to keep from being swallowed up by my own ugly self. I like to think of myself as getting closer and closer to saintliness and sanctification. But on days like today, I see just what a pitiful wreck I am.
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.
The line of people venerating the Cross this evening went on and on as I thought about the day, the decade, my entire life so far. And then we prayed Lord, I am not worthy to receive you . . .
I feel many things as I walk forward to receive the Eucharist. Sometimes, I am overwhelmed that Jesus Christ would take on the appearance of something as lowly as bread, just to come inside of me. Sometimes, I am overwhelmed by the thought that this is really, truly Jesus - God Himself - that I am receiving.
Tonight, the terrible yuckiness I've felt most of the day - well, it lifted in that moment. I recognized the miraculous. Jesus had permitted me to have just a glimpse of how strong my need is . . . and how deep His love is. And I bowed and received my Lord, my God, my Savior and King.
Good Friday, indeed.