It’s Not the Thought That Counts
This week, I’m in the throes of playing catch up. I do this from time to time, I live in the delusion that when my external circumstances change, everything will magically get better. I did this in a huge way while anticipating the move to Kansas (I seriously thought all my stress would evaporate once I got here … spoiler, it didn’t), and I found myself in the same mindset this week. I keep thinking I’ve learned something, and then I have the wonderful opportunity to relearn a lesson over and over until it actually sticks.
For the last two months, play practice demanded hours of my time every weekday. For the last two weeks, the performances have swallowed my weekends too. Somehow, I let myself believe that once the play was over, my life would miraculously snap back into ship-shape.
Instead, I found myself overwhelmed with the mounds of unwashed laundry, lists of un-run errands, and lines of unread emails. Once my excuse to ignore the massive to-do list expired (the musical), I found myself face to face with reality. I have a lot of work to do!
Frankly, I didn’t feel like doing it. Any of it. I wanted to take a nap and continue putting off everything that needed to be done. Instead, I set a small goal for myself on Monday morning. Just two things that I wanted to accomplish, and I would consider the day “slayed” (as all the kids are saying). Once I got those two things done, I had enough energy to do a few more. By the time the kids came home from school, I had accomplished several things off the list and felt slightly less pessimistic about everything.
So went my week, waking up not feeling like it, setting a manageable to-do goal, and slowly chipping away at getting my life back in order. Once the weekend arrived, Mass came to the top of the to-do list. I insisted (forcefully) that my daughter go change (again) into something that is actually church appropriate, as another daughter refused to share a pair of shoes she wasn’t wearing. While I wished I felt differently, getting the kids to stop fighting long enough to buckle their seatbelts felt like one more massive chore.
God, in His infinite compassion and consolation, prepared the Gospel reading for me. This past Sunday we heard from the Gospel according to Matthew, when Jesus tells the story of the man with two sons. When asked, the first son refused to go work in the vineyard, yet he changed his mind and went to do the work. The second son agreed to work when asked, but he didn’t actually do the work. The chief priests and elders confirmed that the first son, the one who did the chore, was the one who did his father’s will (cf. Matthew 21:28-31).
On Sunday, Jesus reminded me that doing the father’s will doesn’t require a perfect attitude. Many times I live the role of the first son, throwing my tantrum and refusing to graciously go where I am called. Yet, every week when I prepare a meal, chauffeur kids here and there, and bring my family to Mass, I am rewarded for my obedience even if I don’t feel like it.
On the car ride home from Mass, my family discussed this reading. Our tradition is to ask each other how we heard God speaking to us at Mass. Sometimes we hear His voice through the music or the homily but on Sunday, we all discussed this Gospel passage. I told the girls how comforted I felt by the reminder that God wants my actions, even if my heart isn’t feeling it. My husband shared my sentiment. My oldest even recognized that sometimes she acts like the first son, and sometimes, she acts like the second.
These moments, like talking with my girls in the car about Jesus speaking to us, remind me why I do it all. Even if I don’t feel like it, it’s always worth it in the end.
Copyright 2023 Maria Riley
Image: Canva
Never miss a blog! Sign up to get them delivered to your inbox weekly HERE.
