“All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory…” (2 Corinthians 3:18)
As encouraging as this passage is, I am afraid it doesn’t have much to do with the episode described below. (I do hope I am cooperating with this process of transformation, though.) ~ ~ ~ One morning this past week, I got up and dressed, as usual, around the time that the sun was beginning to shed some glory on the semi-dark landscape. Things went as usual, that is, until I came to my desk to put on my veil, wrist watch, and crucifix, which normally sit there overnight. My watch was missing, to my dismay. I put on a light. While normal morning preparations don’t usually require extra electric lighting, due to light coming from my window, a search mission for this important time-telling accessory necessitated the flip of a switch that a.m. My watch was nowhere to be seen, neither on my desk nor on the floor (even though I pulled out my chair and explored a bit on my hands and knees). After several seconds searching, I gave up, saying a quick prayer for the discovery of this important item and heading upstairs, then out the door. I went on with my day, first spending time in chapel and then going about my work… As the morning progressed, I noticed from time to time, that something was not setting right with my veil. I pulled on it a little, trying to adjust and straighten it. You might not realize how annoying a cockeyed veil can be to one’s head! Finally, perhaps around 10 a.m. (about five hours after first dressing), as I was walking through our main hallway at St. Anne’s, I thought, “Enough is enough! I’ve got to get to the bottom of this veil issue!” After a couple of seconds of feeling around my veil and head, I felt a lump. Exploring further, I discovered that there was something hard lodged in my veil near the neck area. My fingers soon pulled out the very watch I had looked for so desperately early that morning! (It somehow had fallen inside my veil the evening before when I was undressing.) Both mysteries, the missing watch and the uncomfortable veil, were solved, and I happily went on with my day.
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Tuesday morning is “Bible study time” for me. I lead a weekly scripture-based session with some of our residents. In preparation, I usually get my lesson plan in order while working the reception desk Monday evening.
Last night, though, I didn’t have to devote much effort to this. I remembered that I still had a book on Miracles in the Bible that we had just started studying last time. It highlights various miraculous accounts from the Old and New Testament (in chronological order), quoting the event from scripture and showing a photo from the Holy Land pertaining to the event. I am thoroughly enjoying the book, and the residents seem to like it as well. Having this book at hand spared me the trouble of developing a lesson, looking up page numbers and songs, and preparing a lot of materials. I was grateful. This book on miracles, you might say, was a small miracle in my personal life. On thinking a bit about this, I wonder how many other “small miracles” are offered to me, unnoticed, each day. Thank you, Lord, for all of the unnoticed miracles you give me each day! This morning’s responsorial psalm (at Sunday Mass, as quoted above) was a beautiful one. I especially like the melody we used, to which it was set for liturgical use.
It is a good encouragement to us to praise God with joy. In meditating upon the psalm (and other readings) at my prayer this morning, the phrase that especially struck me was: “He has changed the sea into dry land; through the river they passed on foot.” It spoke to me, personally, of God’s ability and willingness to intervene in human lives. When the people of Israel called out to Him in their slavery in Egypt, God appointed Moses, sending him to Pharaoh. He brought His people out of bondage with “a strong arm.” He worked wonders to free them and bring them to the land of promise. This same pattern of mercy and power, I imagine, can be seen today. I may not have a terrible sea that I need to cross, pursued by a mortal enemy, but I have my own crosses of daily life, some big, some small. I, too, can cry out to God, not only in joy, but also in sorrow. I can beg His mercy in my need, asking him to rescue me and see me through whatever storm or sea I am facing. |
AuthorSr. Christina M. Neumann Archives
December 2019
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