How I Know We're Having a Good Day

This Lent we've been trying to make it to daily Mass more often, and ---praise God---we've actually succeeded quite a bit. During the week, we don't attend our home parish, because noon is so much more achievable than 7:30am for us night owls. As we drive to the church, we always pray together. On Sundays, it's the Rosary, but during the week, we pray a daily offering, petitions, one decade of the Rosary, and a short litany of saints. The petitions consist of each of us praying for one person or thing and giving thanks for one person or thing. Each child chooses a saint or two (or three) for the litany. The rhythm of it all works for us.

Last week Charlie's petitions were quite memorable. "I pray for the lady who leads the music at St ......, and...I'm thankful that at least she tries." (If you have ever attended a weekday noon Mass at St ......, then you know exactly what he meant.) I quickly checked the rear view mirror to see if he was going for a laugh during prayers, but his face appeared completely reverent and sincere. The rest of us, however, pretty much lost it. Reverently, of course.

Unfortunately, there are days when our prayers enroute to Mass are not quite so jovial. Like the days when we're running really late (more so than usual) or someone's been fighting or misbehaving and I'm seething so much that I have to be prompted by a little voice from the backseat to pray. Or the days when one of the kids is so angry or hurt that she won't or can't pray aloud and maybe mumbles her part if we're lucky. The air in the van is uncomfortably heavy on those days, and I'm struck by the incongruity of heading to Jesus with such ugliness in our midst. But I suppose that's when we need to go to Him most of all.

Today was different. Today was a good day. And I didn't even realize it was a good day until I heard all those prayers of thanksgiving offered in the van.

"I'm thankful for my family."

"I'm thankful I'm Catholic."

"I'm thankful I'm adopted."

"I'm thankful we get to go to Mass so often."

"I'm thankful Daddy only has to be gone until Wednesday instead of all week long."

"I'm thankful for life."

My heart sung with joy and gratitude at the sound of those deep, beautiful thoughts lifted up toward Heaven. And I couldn't help thinking, in the spirit of Julie Andrew's version of Maria von Trapp, that somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, I must have done something good.