It’s almost that time of year again when we work on our halo, Lent. How cool is it that the Church gives us so many opportunities in our everyday life that stretches and disciplines us on our way to sainthood. No, I didn’t always think this way, but I’m getting older, and well, I need all the help I can get.

I am currently doing the Magnify 90 challenge for women, so Lent shouldn’t come as such a shock to my undisciplined system. Spoiler alert! We’re only a couple weeks from Ash Wednesday, February 18th. I’ve found that God is so good at giving us what we need to grow in holiness, even though we might not have chosen the means ourselves. I comprehend this better in hind sight. How intimate and loving that our heavenly Father chooses the perfect path, unique to each one of us. I write that both tongue-in-cheek and realistically speaking.

I remember a Lent a few years ago that came with a surgery. With any surgically invasive procedure, there are the expected challenges of having strangers in your business and an element of exposure that can cause embarrassment.

So very many opportunities for growth in humility.

Anyone who has had surgery and prescribed the prerequisite narcotics for pain management, knows that it comes with a price. I guess I need to be somewhat specific and figurative at the same time. Yes, there is the danger of addiction if misused. I’m not referring to that, but instead the other side effect they can produce. Think of it this way: when boulders block the river from running properly, they need to be extracted so there is a good flow again. Sometimes the blockage requires explosives to get the job done because they are wedged so tightly.

I hope this explanation is useful to clarify a delicate situation.

“You can’t really be writing about what I think you are on a Catholic website, near Lent, no less?”

Metaphorically speaking, yes. I am sharing a personal experience that many of us have had, but no one wants to talk about because everyday challenges are always a great opportunity to grow in holiness. Don’t overlook them.

“Well, there’s a reason for that Barb, if I get your drift! Just get to the humility point, or I’m walking.”

There is always some juncture, post-operatively speaking, when one is faced with a decision—pain or explosives. If you get my meaning?  Which brings up a memory which ties in nicely, I distinctly remember a Milk of Magnesia commercial as a child, why, I don’t know? Weird stuff sticks in my head. Something about being gentle, a child in bed, a warm hug from MOM, problem solved. Does anyone else remember that?

“What does this have to do with humility? You’re killing me? I can’t read much longer; it’s like being unable to pull yourself away from a horror film. You know what’s coming, it ain’t pretty, but you just can’t turn away.”

I fashioned a cocktail of that loving, gentle acting, overnight sensation, and kicked it back like a shot of courage. When you are miserable, you will do the unimaginable. Prayer simply wasn’t working…fast enough.

As with these things, they tend to happen when you are far from the sanctuary of the lavatory. This would have been a great time for the so-called adrenaline boost that accompanies emergencies to kick in. Not the case. Enough said. I spent so much time in the throne room that I am now officially its honorary queen.

“So where does the humility part that you lured us into this train wreck come in?”

Oh, that’s easy, I’m a mom, part of a family, and my adult children had a party with my unfortunate mishap. Thanks to the speed of technology, even those who live thousands of miles away had a giggle at my expense. Hardy, har har.

I believe God uses both extraordinary heroic experiences and everyday challenges to grow us in virtue. Especially useful are the everyday small annoyances that we should recognize as beautiful opportunities to grow holy and offer up.

Don’t miss that point especially in the midst of traffic, dirty diapers or nasty people.

If I could use this nightmare as a means to think less of my wounded pride and to offer it up for my growth in holiness, then it has been a beneficial experience. That’s the point, dear reader. When my father was still living, I shared this story with him. He lived as a paraplegic for over fifty years and shed a whole new light from his own experience. Another humbling lesson to learn—there are people who have it worse than you. Pray for them.

It’s what we do with those little opportunities that help us grow spiritually.

I’d like to leave you with an alternative solution if you ever find yourself in this particular boulder dilemma. Rather than blasting back a shot of MOM (aka fire in the hole), try using warm compresses. I hear that it works slowly enough to make the journey to the sanctuary and is just as effective.

You’re welcome.

Happy holy-making Lent!