different perspectives

For the past two weeks, I have been embroiled in what I can only think is a satanic attack on the pregnancy center. It is threatening to tear apart our ultrasound program. I can't really share with you the details but, trust me, it's been vicious. I know that we will emerge stronger but, in the meanwhile, it's painful going through it.

I am offering up my suffering, that our Lord might use it for something good. And, maybe God is allowing this so that all of us involved will learn important things from it. I know, for me, it is an opportunity to trust God. It is also showing me more of my limitations and flaws. Everywhere I go, I have been asking, begging, for prayer support.

For the past month or more, I have felt as though I have been pouring my heart out over preparing the music for Christmas time and then executing it at Mass. So, it was quite a shock to my system yesterday morning before the holy day Mass when an elderly woman approached me, very irritated, chastising me for not programming "Go Tell it on the Mountain". She said it should have been the first hymn on Christmas Day. She was dead serious. In my head, I was thinking: from the sublime to the ridiculous. I deal with life and death every single day at the pregnancy center and here she was, complaining about something that seemed so trivial. However, I realized that, if it was her favorite Christmas carol, I could see why she would be perturbed that we hadn't sung it YET. I explained that it was coming...We would be singing it for Epiphany in the afternoon and today. That did little to appease her...or so her face showed. I told her there were 5 billion Christmas carols and I was doing my best to get in as many as I could. I really wanted to ask her to tell me something she thought I was doing right but I was so vexed I just wanted to retreat into my corner where the piano is and not talk to her for one minute longer than I had to.

I wonder what she thought of the beautiful rendition Krista, the cantor, did of the Ave Maria, minutes after her complaint. It brought tears to my eyes, listening to her. As her accompanist, I wanted to accompany her the very best way possible. She didn't really need me, though. Her voice soared all by itself!

Does the woman realize what a treasure we have in our cantors, every one of them? On my way to the church yesterday morning, I thought about how lovely it would be if Krista sang the Ave Maria for a prelude. She didn't hesitate when I asked her if she was warmed up enough to do it. Her attitude always is "I'm here, I may as well sing!" It's that way with all the cantors at St. Columba. Their servant attitude humbles me and makes my job so easy!

Isn't it interesting how we all have different perspectives on things? I feel so blessed to be learning the lessons my bishop is teaching me. They have colored everything I do, hopefully with a serving and humble attitude. (This is a work in progress!) Love isn't about complaining, even in our heads. It's about giving and giving and giving. No complaining allowed...well, it's allowed but I think we must try to work our way out of complaining when God calls us to do something. I'm working on not complaining at first, which is what I tend to do before I get to doing what it is I'm supposed to be doing at the moment. The ideal is not to complain at all. It's tough but a very worthwhile exercise!

I just thought of something. If I hadn't been blessed with the job at St. Columba (and, trust me, it is a huge blessing in many ways!), I wouldn't have had to listen to the woman's complaining. Not to have that job would have been a terrible loss in my life for lots of reasons. (I'm thinking of all the wonderful people I've met there, for one.) In that light, I am glad she complained!