Forecasts are a funny thing, aren’t they? Weatherman predicts rain and we grab our umbrellas. Sports announcers predict the Aggies will win and we get our hopes up (maybe). Whatever the forecast, we prepare ourselves for the probable outcome.
This weekend, I went to Mass for the first time since before Luke was born. If you’re counting that’s about two months. Now, I was able to attend a couple of daily Masses at Dell Children’s and we had a sweet friend bring us communion each weekend. But still.
Anna-Laura and I ventured up to church on Saturday evening and I caught myself looking down the pew, imagining our growing family taking up nearly the whole thing…someday. Luke is still in quarantine, but we’re hoping in the next month he will make his Mass debut. Amazingly, I didn’t tear up, I just smiled. The homily was lovely, Deacon David spoke about forecasts 🙂 And, the music was inspiring. I was doing pretty well and Anna-Laura was well on her way to earning an A+ for her behavior. Then we started to make our way up to communion and I darn near lost it. I was literally biting my lip. Surely the congregation would’ve wondering what was up with the crazy, sobbing lady on pew three if I had.
Perhaps it was the humbling realization that God has been with us all along, but it had been a long while since I had experienced his grace through the Eucharist, surrounded by community. Perhaps it was because, with only one child to watch over, I had actually heard all the readings and the homily. Perhaps it was the pregnant Eucharistic minister who offered communion. Or, perhaps, it was a God moment when He reached my soul. All in all, Mass just wasn’t what I forecasted it would be. I didn’t just sail through the liturgy and come home inspired.
I actually think I came home with more questions than answers.
But, there was one thing that Deacon David mentioned that really touched me. This whole forecast thing got me thinking.
If I had known my fifth pregnancy would be so rocky would we have tried for another?
If I knew the 20-week ultrasound would bring about a torrent of emotions would I have enjoyed those initial kicks, belly growing and maternity clothes shopping?
If we knew that Luke would develop NEC would I have dreaded his delivery, agonized over every feeding or felt guarded joy when I laid my eyes upon him for the first time?
We always say (myself is totally included here)…”Oh, if only God had given me a heads up on this one.” Or, “Man, if I’d only known, I might’ve…” This experience with Luke has taught me that ignorance is bliss.
We don’t want to know when a loved one will meet Jesus. If we’ll lose our job. Get cancer. Or lose a child. That ‘knowing’ robs us of joy and faith. And a whole lot of it.
Luke’s most important lesson (and the one I was reminded of at Mass this weekend) is simple. Live in the present. Worry gets you nowhere. God will get you through it if you let Him. You will be stronger for having lived through the experience.
As a sweet mom reminded me recently…life experience doesn’t define you. It REdefines you.