After a late night with my oldest (who had fallen asleep at 7 pm to only wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed from 10 pm til 2 am), I woke up with body aches and chills -- plus it was cold outside, it is always hard getting both boys ready and out the door on time, yada yada yada.
Despite a little voice in my head saying "Just stay home this one time... you are tired and don't need to take the boys out on your own this morning," I powered through and had everyone up, fed, and dressed a good half hour before church. Once I topped off my 2-month-old with a quick nursing session, we were out the door and scheduled to actually get to mass a minute or two before it started (which is a big deal, if you know me and the fact that we are almost always late to everything).
When we pulled up, the parking lot was completely packed.
"Is today a holy day of obligation that I didn't know about?" I asked myself as I searched for just one open spot.
I cursed under my breath at all the cars taking up two parking spots, wondering why and how common sense goes to pot in Colorado whenever there is snow on the ground.
"Well, you tried, Annie. The boys are still content in the car seats, so just turn around and go home." the voice told me.
It was then I had a moment of Divine intervention; I found a parking spot. It was about as far away from the front door as I could possibly get, but by golly, I had a spot and the boys and I were going to mass.
While I was walking, I heard the voice again.
"Gabe's carseat is so heavy... I know your shoulder hurts, so why not just turn around, put it back in the car, and go home?"
Gabriel may have the heaviest carseat known to man, but I was willing to bet that the cross Christ carried was even heavier, so on we trekked.
The boys and I were splashed by passing cars.
It was standing room only by the time we made our way into the church.
My poor 14-pound newborn was apparently wasting away from not nursing in the last 20 minutes and wanted to make it known to everyone within a 3-mile radius.
While I may have been physically exhausted by the time mass had ended, my soul felt completely renewed. God knew that my boys and I needed to attend the service and -- as always -- he provided us (and hundreds others) with parking spots, a meaningful homily, and a safe place to come together and worship.
Why am I sharing this story?
No; it isn't to get an "Atta girl -- you made it to church like you're supposed to!"
It is to share that we all have that little voice in the back of our head saying we aren't good enough, aren't deserving, or that we can't do something... never listen to it or give in.
We all have our own personal tug of wars with the devil, but with Christ by our side, we can conquer any obstacle that comes our way.
You, my friend, are good enough.
You are deserving.
You can do it.
And -- most importantly -- you are so, so loved.
|Sweetest boys in their Sunday best.|