I am a mess.
This was the sobering thought that swirled through my head as I sat in silent prayer while waiting for Mass to begin this past Sunday.
I wasn't happy with myself, but in my self recrimination I couldn't come up with one single, glaring thing that I had done wrong; rather, it was a bunch of smaller ways in which I could have been better ... lost opportunities in which I could have been a better wife, a better mother, a better steward, a better friend, a better writer, a better homemaker, a better example.
If I were being honest (and I was trying to be) then I would have to also admit that lately I had been coasting -- just doing the minimum -- and not taking opportunities to be more: more kind, more generous, more spiritual, more patient, more charitable.
And by not being better or by not doing more meant that I had been ... mediocre, at best. Lukewarm.
Ick. No wonder I wasn't happy with myself. God was calling me to holiness, and holiness wasn't even on my radar.
Or was it? Could these feeling of dissatisfaction and restlessness be God's way of pulling me back? I thought of John Paul II who said that the call to holiness was not only a state, but a task; that we are not so much called to attain perfection, as to strive for perfection.
Strive. I pondered that word for a few minutes.
I once read that in our walk of faith, one either goes forward or one goes backward, but one does not stand still.
This, then, was what God was telling me: I can't be better or do more unless I strive to be better or do more; that unless there is the task, nothing is accomplished. This is not to say that strive is synonymous with success, but that the attempt is better than nothing at all.