I don’t have much to say today; but here are some lovely thoughts from Karen Edmisten:
. . . Now that I’m in the fold of the Catholic Church—no longer a stranger and sojourner but a citizen among the saints and not-so-saintly—I give tearful thanks for the gift of my faith, and I pray that at least one of those Christmas Christians will be touched by God this year, touched so deeply that he or she will be moved to venture back to Mass again in January. Maybe once more in the spring. Maybe on a weekly basis by June. Into the confessional by next September? Then, finally, back into full communion with our one, holy, Catholic and apostolic Church.
Which one will it be? Is it that sweet woman behind me, the one with whom I’ll exchange a sign of peace? The bored teenager sitting in front of us? Will it be the man who scowls as we slide into the pew, forcing him to move down and relinquish his spot on the aisle?
Since I don’t know which one it will be, I pray that I will not be a stumbling block to whomever it is. I pray that I will not be the reason he goes home griping about churchy hypocrites who say they’re Christians but don’t act like it.
I pray that someone, somewhere, this Christmas season, will be touched by the Christ Child.
And I pray that I will not get in his way.