To the Misbehaved Kid In the Pew Behind Me

Thank you.

I admit that I dreaded when you came and sat behind me in the middle of the opening prayer.  I was exhausted after a long day in customer service, and I picked that isolated corner at the front of the church for a reason:  I thought it would be peaceful.

Instead, you sat behind me and crunched loudly on your church-time snack.  You wiped your sticky fingers on the pew behind me.  I felt a slight tug on my hair and heard your mom say, "Stop touching her hair."  I smiled.  But then she kept saying it, and I started to get annoyed and wondered if I was going to find boogers in there later.

I kept seeing you out of the corners of my eyes and I learned that 1)  your name is Marcus and 2)  no matter how many times your parents told you to stand still or sit down, you refused.

I lost track of the second reading and the Gospel as I planned in my head how me and my future husband will teach our future kids to sit quietly in church and not wipe boogers in people's hair.

Then I heard the paper glide back and forth, back and forth across the back of the pew.  I heard you making weird noises with your tongue, and talking about wanting to leave.  I was sad that you didn't understand the beauty of what was going on in front of you.

And as the second part of Mass went on and your mom was still "Shhsh"ing you and telling you repeatedly to sit down, I learned the lesson you were there to teach me:  I am you.

I don't understand the beauty of what is going on in front of me.

In my spiritual life, in my relationship with God, I constantly find myself talking and talking and talking--telling Him what I want, that I am tired, stressed, overwhelmed, happy, uncertain--and all the while He's telling me "Shhh. . ."  Because He just wants to shower His love on me.

I wander away, back and forth, back and forth, to where I get lost in the darkness until God grabs my hand with grace and pulls me back to the light.

I do the same stupid things over and over and He has to keep gently reminding me not to do them.  I annoy the people around me who are striving to be holy by pointing out the ugly that I see rather than the beautiful.

As much as I like to think I understand the beauty of the Mystery of God, I know nothing.

Thanks for the reminder, Marcus.