Maybe it was because it took me nearly forty years to finally come to faith (I joke that I am a little slow, kind of like the Israelites, because it took us forty years while it only took Jesus forty days!), or more likely that I manage on a good day to be open to only a small fraction of God’s grace that rains down around me, but the first paragraph of today’s meditation in the Magnificat caused a flood of tears:
At the moment when the mother of Saint Alexis recognized her son in the lifeless body of the beggar who had lived for thirty years under her palace stairway, she cried out, “O my son! that I should have known you so late!…” The soul, at the end of this life, will see at last him whom it possessed in the Eucharist; and, at sight of the consolations, the beauties, the riches that it has disregarded, it too, will cry out: “O Jesus, my Life, my Treasure, my Love, to think that I should have known you so late!…”
— St. John Vianney, the Curé of Ars
But I am consoled to know that be it forty or even eighty years without, that is near to nothing compared to eternity with.
Lord, if I am not within your grace, please put me there. If I am within your grace, please keep me there.