Struggling

Why does sacrifice have to be the currency heaven?

It's so hard. It's such a...sacrifice. If I do it half-heartedly, does it half count? If I say I'm going to do it and I don't -- no, I know, no credit. If I say forget it and I do it anyway -- yes, I know, full credit despite the original defiance.

I'm a mom. I don't have to ponder these things too long. I have learned to relate to God the Father quite well by now. If I tell my son, pick up all your clothes off the floor, he says "okay," and 10 minutes later, they're all still there -- I'm not happy. In fact, I'm more disappointed at his lack of obedience because now I feel like he lied to me. If I tell him to pick up the clothes, he says I'm busy, and 10 minutes later, they're all picked up -- I'm thoroughly impressed because I know he sacrificed to obey me.

Obedience: immediate, complete, and willing conformity to authority.

So if I dilly dally, pack up before the job's done, or hold a grudge it's not obedience. What is it then? It is going through the motions? Is it attempting to stay out of trouble?

Back to mothering. If I agree with my daughter that she may have ice cream after changing into pajamas and she drags herself up the steps, puts on only her pajama shirt, and whines the whole time -- do I scoop out her reward? No. No, I don't.

Submission: the act of yielding your will to the will of another.

Basically, the act of sacrificing everything I want for what someone else wants. This seems like a lose/win situation. Is it really?

Yielding is something regularly done poorly in the driving world. There are those who completely stop on the onramp -- "Oh, fine. You all just go ahead of me. See if I care. I'm not going to budge now. I don't care if twenty five cars are piling up behind me. You all go on your merry way while I wait for a gap big enough to accelerate up to speed and move on with my life." And there are those who zoom right in without even a swift glance sideways -- "Heck if I'm gonna slow down so you can get ahead of me. I'm on a roll here. There's no stoppin' me now. So what if I push you into the next lane and cause a 10-car pile-up. I need to keep movin', people!"

Obedience and submission -- when done correctly, the world spins a little more smoothly; the ride is not so wobbly. "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven" is closer to being fulfilled.

Still, it's tough. No matter how logical it all is to sacrifice, it's still an act akin to grabbing metal skewers and stabbing myself repeatedly in the bosom while wearing a huge smile on my face, saying, "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt. Really. It's okay." And then I find myself singing, "Wanna put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin 'round to a beautiful oblivion...." It's hard.

I'm not saying that after a decade of marriage and motherhood I haven't learned the value of sacrifice. I've done it plenty plenty times -- no, not always with a smile on my face, but I did it anyway and it was appreciated. I sacrificed my pursuit of a master's degree. I sacrificed dating my husband (we brought along a three-month-old to our one-year anniversary getaway). I sacrificed sleep and sanity, hygene and hunger relief, freedom to escape for more than two hours and feeling like an attractive woman. I've sacrificed a clean house for teaching my kids at home. I've sacrificed having my body be all mine so that my going-on-31-months-now toddler can continue nursing.

I have sacrificed, people. I'm not saying I'm a self-centered person who isn't bothered by anything anyone else says or does or doesn't do. I love the results of my sacrifices. They've paid off well. I love when others sacrifice for me. It's a language of love.

The problem is, I'm getting a little sick of it! Could this be why Christ chose to have a ministry lasting only 3 years? I'm not saying He was living it up the other 30 years prior to going public. I'm saying it's hard to be in the spotlight all the time, esp. when people know you're trying hard to live your best life. As soon as you start hesitating to follow your own principles, others start in with, "Ah, ah, ah! You said you wanted to be a saint. Saints don't dilly dally. Saints don't pack up before the job's done. Saints don't hold a grudge." Then I want to curse and swear, hit and bite. But I usually sacrifice this urge by grinning weakly and stating, "I'm trying, okay? I'm doing the best I can do right now. Now please would you get the fffffffffflies off the window?" Yes, I just sacrificed there again. Then I comfort myself with people like Padre Pio, the 1960s stigmatist, who said to one of his religious brothers, "Hold up a minute before I hear confessions. I've got to finish this candy. People are gonna say, 'A saint doesn't eat candy' if I go in there before it's done." Intercede for me, Padre P.

I know I've got to finish the race. I know I can fall and head the wrong direction at any point in the journey. I know the evil one is bloodthirsty for my soul. I know I've got to continuously ask for grace. I know. I KNOW. I know. My problem is I know too much about what I'm supposed to do and I don't just do it. My problem is I base too much on emotion and I hate going through the motions. My problem is I'm not quite perfect just yet. But the saints are not people who were always perfect. Saints are people who struggled every single BLESSED day to do what's right: to obey, to submit, to yield. I am struggling. God knows I'm struggling. Heaven help me.