The little life

It is one of those days when I feel frustrated. It's a busy time with dogs and the dogs I have are high maintenience. (I suppose they all are.) I'm getting another dog tomorrow that I'm not looking forward to (I feel guilty saying that but it's true.) And then a few more dogs this weekend. I feel overloaded. And that's just the dog stuff.

The house stuff is overwhelming as well. Because of all the dogs, I have to watch them with play to make sure things don't get out of hand or that one of them doesn't sneak away to go poop (it happens a lot) and so dishes aren't done. I get behind on that, and then we don't have enough silverware or plates for the next meal. Our kitchen is never clean anymore. And the kitchen floor--full of dirty footprints and paw prints.

Laundry--speaks for itself. The kids have been going around in winter clothes because they claim they don't have any clean summer clothes. If they would just look in the hamper, they would find it. I sort their clothes and lay them out on the couch for them to take--and they just sit there--for days.

The bathroom is gross.

The carpets are gross. Full of dog hair.

I just feel so discouraged. I feel like a failure because it's not even trying to keep up with everything, but now the house is a health-hazzard. I mean, truly disgusting. Dead bugs because no one will pick them up and the floors don't get mopped regularly. Dried up throw up from the dogs (if they drink too much water and then play, they throw up) because I didn't get a chance to get to it and then forgot about it. I could go on, but it would take too much time. It is just too much.

Let's not even talk about the bedrooms. Clothes constantly on the floors because no one puts anything away. Nothing in the drawers or closets because it's always on the floor.

Max's diabetes stuff--everywhere. Dirty test strips and random needles.

And then there are the people.

Do you ever feel like everyone is just asking too much of you? This is how I feel lately. There is so much to do, so much on my plate, and yet, someone always has something to ask.

Obviously the kids are the neediest. Even though they are much older and should be more indendent, they're not. They are helpless. The things they ask help with or the problems they get themselves in leaves me shaking my head.

And of course the dogs ask something--all the time. Feed me, potty me, exercise me, play with me, love me. Some are needier than others.

All of this complaining leads to what happened this morning at church. I was feeling the weight of it all and wanting to just leave after Mass. But they had refreshments for the feast of Corpus Christi, and of course the kids wanted to have some. I told them to hurry, and a woman who is part of the homebound ministry came up to me. She asked me what time I wanted to meet her at church when we do homebound together.

Well, we had already gone over this during one of her phone calls with me. I knew she was asking me because she wanted to make sure I remembered. This irks me to no end. I must admit I have little patience with some of the older ladies. They seem so anxious about everything and the constant reminders they give me--like they don't trust me or I'm too brainless to remember things--frustrates me. On a better day, I can usually handle these small annoyances pretty well and even hide my true feelings. But not today. Today I said to her, "Didn't we agree to meet at 8:30?" In my nicest voice, of course. She said, "Oh, yes, I just wanted to make sure you remembered." (See?!?!)

Then she asked me if I was going to call everyone on the list to make sure they remembered we would be coming on Tuesday for homebound.

True, my regular partner had asked if I would do this and I said I would. But in the hustle bustle with vacation and then unpacking, the house is a huge mess, as I said. Add six dogs to it, and things are really chaotic. I'm sure the list of phone numbers are floating around somewhere under the piles of paper and clothes and dog poop, but frankly, the idea of spending time on the phone calling everyone--and adding one more thing to my list, made me say, "Would you mind doing it? I don't know where my list of phone numbers are."

She pursed her lips and said, "Oh. Well. I guess."

I didn't say anything, I guess I could have tried to redeem myself and explain how hectic everything is. But I didn't. It doesn't seem to do much good anyway, because when I try to explain things, people don't get it. They look at me like I'm making excuses.

These older ladies who have all their kids out of the house, all their house duties done within an hour (because they never get behind), and no other responsibilities except for the things they volunteer for, they seem to forget what it was like to be mom, wife and helpmate with financial needs. And today I just couldn't take it.

I tried to remember Jesus who was still present with me and asked for help in being patient with this woman. I made myself smile at her--though it probably looked more like the Joker and it wasn't even sincere, but I know that Jesus understood the struggle in my heart.

Then another woman who I do like very much said hello to me, but I was so on edge that I couldn't even be friendly. I looked towards her and tried to smile but all I saw was: "Maternity Clothes Woman."  This was the woman who assumed I am pregnant and gave me a huge box of materinity clothes that I don't need. There are certain people in my church who assume that just because we have a big family that we are constant need for clothes. I sometimes feel like another Good Will. I found myself dodging her as I worried she would try to pawn off more of her junk on me.

On the way home from church, I asked the kids if they knew what feast it was today and they all drew a blank. When I reminded them it was the Feast of Corpus Christi (I mean, it was the homily for cryin' out loud), I asked them what it meant. No one knew. I got upset because every year we talk about what it means and why we celebrate it. Every year. And every new year, they still forget what it is. It is like this with nearly every feast. And then I felt the pressure of failure of not catechiszing my kids.

I wrote a while ago that I want to be a saint. This is not true anymore. It feels so out of reach, so impossible. It doesn't even feel like it's something God wants me to be. Who am I to think that I could ever be a saint?

And remember, I am not talking about a canonized saint, but simply a person who has attained their holiness to get to heaven. But in my discouragement, I have found it difficult to swallow. I hate to admit this, because I know so many people would jump in with their arguments about how it's all pride and everything...but I can't help how I feel. I look at myself and how easily I fall and I have to laugh. So many people tell me how impossible I was as a child, a teenager and even as an adult. No one has ever had a good memory about me as a kid. If anything, they bring up how difficult I was. And even now, I still have very little people who truly like me. Because of my faults and weaknesses that I can't ever overcome.  I will be in Purgatory forever. So be it.

This is how I feel. But it's not what I truly believe.

In a moment of this discouragement, I gave my dream of becoming a saint to God. I gave my hopes of attaining holiness and avoiding purgatory to Him. I told Him He could have it and I will become as holy as He desires. I won't worry about it anymore. Because I can't do the impossible. I am just too imperfect in so many ways.

Instead, I will give Him as much as I can. Even if it's just simply a desire of what I hope for. When I look back on my day and just see mistake after mistake, I'll look at it as a toddler who just starting to walk and does so with more falls than actual steps. Because parents are just happy over how many steps--not falls--that their baby has taken. They count every one.

I began to understand for the first time that St.Therse suffered in this way all her life, on the brink of discouragement. I say "the brink" because she never actually became discouraged, but she also was very aware of all her faults and weaknesses. I never really saw her in this way before; she talks so much about loving God that she made it sound easy--she even said it was easy. But for this first time, God let me see truly what she suffered and how much she suffered, knowing exactly what she was, and just giving it up, self-sacrificing her pride over and over putting the hope of her salvation in God's hands.

The "littleness" that she constantly refers to of herself is her cheerful way of describing her weaknesses and faults. Instead of complaining over them, she saw that she would always be little. She would forever be the little flower at the feet of Jesus, rather than the beautiful orchids that stood tall that everyone admired.

I have the calling to live the little life. I have always known this but avoided it. But this day, it jumped out at me as an invitation to be part of St.Therese's "army of little souls." And now, even though today has been rough, I have fallen again, been rude to others and have every reason to give up, I read these quotes from St.Therese who constantly is urging me on:

"To draw near to Jesus we must be so little....Oh! how few souls aspire to be littel and unknown..." 

"I am no longer surprised at anything, nor do I grieve at seeing that I am frailty itself; on the contrary I glory in it, and exect to discover new imperfections in myself each day. These lights concerning my nothingness do mre more good, I affirm, than lights regarding faith." 

"When we commit a fault we must not think it due to a physical cause, such as illness or the weather, we must attribute this fall to our imperfection, but without ever growing discouraged."

"I understand very well how St.Peter fell. He dpended too confidently on the fervor of his feelings, instead of relying solely upon Divine strength. Had he said to Jesus: 'Lord, give me the strength to follow Thee even unto death,' that strenghth, I am quite sure, would not have been refused him."

And the kicker--today being Sunday and the feast of Corpuse Christi:

"Do you know my Sundays and festivals? They are the days the good God tries me the most."