The last few days were big ones. Saturday was the memorial of St. Joan of Arc. Then on Sunday fell Pentecost, and for us, the Visitation and our 12th Anniversary. I had planned to celebrate and do all the things for all the things. But all the things took a different turn.

Saturday we pulled a family fun day and went blueberry picking with the rest of greater Houston. It was a lovely time, we managed seven pounds of berries from an over-picked patch. After celebrating with snow cones we drove back for a delightfully summer meal of backyard burgers, corn and watermelon. Then I set to making blueberry jam, a task which took more time and emotional energy than I had anticipated. As I washed up the last of the jam mess, I knew I didn’t have pralines or anything left in me to with which to create. “I’ll just read the story from the Catholic Saints for Children,” I thought. And then I was still so tired it never happened. 

Sunday came, our Anniversary. We split Mass this weekend, and probably will for a while. Mass is very dynamic with a young toddler and preschooler, so to assist in the containment of the germs our plan has been to take turns. As I drove with Little Miss to our local parish Sunday morning I reflected on how much more strange it was to be attending Mass without the whole family than it was to spend that time in prayer at home together. It’s a shift from our normal, sure, but nothing can replace the Source and Summit.

On that same drive I opened up with Little Miss on what was going on in our nation. It wasn’t our first broach of the subject of racism, discrimination, or public protest. But it was close, sadly. Growing up pretty well bubbled, and holding mostly an intellectual inclusive and anti-racist vantage point, I’ve not had a lot of opportunity to practice what I preach. It’s not a subject I feel bold to speak of nor one that has been consistently on the agenda. It will be now.

We’ve approached every single moral lesson from the starting point that everyone is made in the image and likeness of God, and we need to see Christ in every single person we interact with. Christ in that sibling that’s annoying, Christ in the new kid we feel threatened by, Christ in the neighbor we don’t know well, Christ in the stranger at the store. Easy to speak, hard for anyone to practice. This was the crux of my mini lecture to Little Miss on the way to Mass. We can’t just be nice to people because they’re this or that or it makes us feel good. We have to love everyone because they are Christ to us. 

It was fitting that we were off to celebrate Pentecost. “We’ve got to pray in a special way today. Ask the Holy Spirit to come anew into our own hearts, into our community, our nation and our world. Ask him to come and reign and bring his peace and wisdom like fire from heaven.” And that’s what we did. The pastor backed me up in his homily. Alleluia!

I didn’t get to the treats and cakes I had hoped to make. I let the local French bakery take care of the sweets, fighting off the feelings of being a failure and poser (while also waiting incredibly impatiently to partake). How can you try to share these great ideas when you can’t even pull them off yourself? Well, sometimes you’re weary, and you let the Holy Spirit plan his own party.

Pray my friends. Give people space to work through their own issues with the problems, the sickness of racism, fear, hate, and prejudice in their own hearts. The devil loves nothing more than to feed those fires, especially ones rooted in fear. So pray for a new fire, a holy fire, to burn away those injustices and supplant them with the burning fire of love.