Sometimes I feel the need to be praised for things like...showering before work. Remembering to put the trash out. Getting my oil changed. These things mean I am a grown-up, right? Where is the gold star on my sticker chart?
It has been hitting me hard for some reason lately that I am nearing 3 years of being a nurse. I am even closer to my 3-year anniversary of no longer being a student. That just can't be right. Somehow, I am in my mid twenties. I don't feel that old, and certainly not that mature. Shouldn't I still have someone managing me?
Today I realized I have broken nearly all of my Lenten promises at least once. I don't normally use Sundays as a "cheat day," but I sure did today (I ate sweets, got on Facebook, and I'm up past 10 on a work night). I was a bit ambitious, choosing to be hard on myself this year. I needed the stretching. I am unable to control the expedient passing of time but by gosh I can control my diet, my sleep schedule, my internet usage. Wrong.
It was good to hear the parable of the Prodigal Son at Mass this evening. This morning I almost skipped reading it with the others. It was just the Gospel the other day, and I've read it so many times, right? But I did again, and what struck me this time was the father running to meet his son with open arms. No, "I told you so," no scolding or resentment. Just overwhelming love. Just an opportunity to become a "new creation," as we heard in the epistle.
Monday is a good day for starting over. Let's try this again tomorrow, God.
