It is nine degrees and minus with the wind chill. I took a cab to church as the secretary of this wealthy parish could not find me a ride.
After Mass, I could not get a cab, as many people most likely are having car problems and need cabs to pick up prescriptions. I asked four people after church for a ride before one said yes. The irony was the priest spoke of not judging people and reaching out....
Catholic, but not Christian...and I think of the little birds of the field, so cold, like me outside in this weather.
Today, is, perhaps one of the coldest days I have experienced in a year. Yet, outside, several kinds of birds are singing. One is a warbler, one a cardinal, and I am touched by their persistent songs in the morning cold.
These humble creatures of God teach us a lesson. That in terrible times, we keep praising God. We praise Him for graces, for life, and even for trials.
Yesterday, walking home from a close mini-mall, I thanked God for suffering: for pain in my feet, my face (I have had frostbite there), my hands, my back. I felt the joy of having something to offer up to my Dear Lord, Who suffered on the Cross for me.
This joy is a quiet joy, a simple joy of joining just a tiny bit in the sufferings of the Bridegroom. If we want to be with Christ, we accept the sufferings He brings, He allows.
Thousands of miles from the person, after Christ and Mary, I love the most, I suffer loss of my only son, but realizing that Mary lost her Son helps me as well. Does she not help all who have lost children through separation, even that terrible separation of death?
The tiny bird sings outside my small patio, and its song drives away doubt, fear.
Did not the Second Son of the Blessed Trinity remind us of the Father's care for the least of His creatures?
I am reminded of the British robin I saw on the lower promenade in Sliema, a time which now seems long ago as I sit in this barren landscape. No flowers, no leaves on the trees, but one small bird singing the praises of the God it does not even know as we do.
Can we do less, those of us who know His Love, His Sacrifice daily re-enacted at daily Holy Mass, (which I miss so much since I have landed here-a cross, indeed). I miss the walk to Whitefriars, or Clarendon Street, on my daily visit to my Dear Lord. Now, I must carry Him within me without the great comfort of the sacrament.
But, like this little bird, I praise God in the barrenness and in the plenitude. This is why I was created, to know, to love, to serve, to praise God in this world and in the next. This is why you were created.
Let us praise God together, joining this little creature, which sings so brightly in the dim cold.