Often as I approach the altar at communion I ask if He would please allow me to be his servant. I ask Mary his mother to teach me how to hold Him like she did. I have pictured the 13Th station when His broken body is placed in her arms. I want to feel the realness of that. I know that as I get closer to the celebrant I must prepare myself for that moment when I am allowed to Carry Him. "This is My body which has been given up for you". I may never understand this. Once in a while there have been times in my life that I have felt He has heard and answered me.
I must never be afraid to be a fool for Him. So often I am discouraged by people's words. I want so badly to be His hands, His feet, His lips. All I can do is listen carefully and do what I think he is asking of me. One morning I woke early and went running. I often run in the evening, but on this day I ran in the morning. I use to play this little game. What is your will,? Who would you like me to pray for today? As I ran and passed by people I would pray for them. I would imagine the story behind them and send off a little prayer to heaven hoping God would hear if they were the one I was suppose to be praying for that particular day. Anyway, for some reason on this day I felt drawn way out of my regular path of running a few miles away, to a hospital. I knelt and said my prayers and went on my merry way. On the way home again I felt drawn in a different direction. I found myself over on the other side of town and crossing the road ending up in an area of pedestrians. All of a sudden I found myself face to face with a homeless man. I stopped in front of him and said "Jesus loves you." Jesus loves you that's all I said. Now I had never been that bold before to say Jesus loves you to anyone nevermind approaching a homeless man who I had seen many times for many years and never once said a word to. When I got home I told the story to my husband and told him how I would never forget the look in his eyes when I told him that. It was like he had waited years to hear those words. We talked about maybe finding him and giving him a bible or something. A few days later I heard his body had been found behind a shop where he often sat. He had had a heart attack or something and died. I always wonder if Jesus let me be his His feet and His eyes and His heart that day. I will try to never be afraid to share His love with whomever, where ever he may ask me to bring it. We must be couragous in our faith quietly waiting and listening for that still small voice. I know it is there.
You fill me with such love. Lead me Lord, posess me, let me serve you with every breath. Allow me please to decrease until there is nothing left of me but the simple reflection of you.