Sunday, March 16, 2014

Charity :: Weekends with Chesterton

Today, I failed in my vocation as a mother. I uttered words that wounded a little boy's heart and that were not even comprehensible to his wonderfully sweet mind. I was angry; I was unsure of how to proceed, so I just blurted out words that caused him to doubt my unconditional love and all of my reminders about kindness. I allowed the devil to get the best of my human nature.
 
Thankfully, God gives me these moments in order to show me my fragility, my lack of faith, my lack of virtue cultivated, my pride. Humility was gained when I had to kneel beside a crying little soul and apologize for being utterly cruel.

 
 

Finding this little quip in Orthodoxy, my failure was brought to my mind once again. How many times do I make myself unlovable to those given to me from God? To the world around me? Am I so unaware of my actions? How does God keep loving me when all I do is stumble?

 The domestic church is a wonderful place to build our children up, but often there is that reminder of our fallen nature. Everyday toil, routine, worries, anxieties, and exhaustion compound to bring out the intrinsic selfish nature. Priorities begin to get rearranged; sin exerts itself over the household. We fail to see the members of our domestic church as needing the charity of which Chesterton speaks.

What I am sure of is that tomorrow I get to begin again; I get to pick up my cross once again. We all do. We don't even have to wait till the next day. We get to make a continual conversion to Christ. Tomorrow, I will remind myself that I can love the unlovable. I can find joy in these souls entrusted to me.




Find other insights from Chesterton at Amongst Lovely Things!

2 comments:

  1. There is no failure. Only learning. We all learn as we go. Everyday is a new adventure.

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  2. Read this, and the screamed at Amelia because she had took the food color out of the kitchen to smear all over her toys in her room. Of course I left the food coloring on the counter in her reach. As I was yelling to get them to get into the tub, I took the food color back to the kitchen and slammed the door for a final punctuation of my fury. I managed to slice my finger that wouldn't stop bleeding. We fail and we are humbled. And we get to try again.

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