SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL FOR GOD

I so often hear (as when I'm talking to myself) that I can't be expected to be forgiving all the time. That especially falls from my lips when we have ceased fighting anything and anybody comes to mind. The rest of the thought is something like I'm not the sainted Mother Teresa after all.

This morning's blinding flash of the obvious: Mother Teresa wasn't a saint when she started.

I'm reading "Something Beautiful for God: Mother Teresa of Calcutta" by Malcolm Muggeridge, and the rare and precious gift to me is I'm reading it without negative comparisons, with me on the low end. I thank God daily that he works through me as he worked through Jesus Christ. (And he does. Jesus was quicker on the uptake, but I know he does.) So I can read about Mother Teresa with tears in my eyes at her selflessness but also without feeling heavy, heavy over my head, I'll never get there.

Even better, I know that "there" is where I'm heading, and it is not Calcutta...my "there" is a state of acceptance of myself in the midst of self-propelled dumb with my whole world watching. Or, harder actually, my "there" is a state of self-acceptance in the midst of a selfless act that brings glory with no one watching...or, harder still, brings glory but not to me.

I am not there yet, I may not get there in this lifetime, but I know from my toenails up that that's where I'm heading. That's my destination. I will arrive at my destination when I am giving that state of self-acceptance away without being aware of it.

Thank you.