If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him. In perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. ... He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me. Still, He knows what He is about.”
In my season of overwork (I hate summer: prickly heat, humidity and budgets), I sometimes look up at the crucifix before Mass begins and mentally empty out my pockets and purse. I have the nice thing I did for a neighbor, or a patience displayed with a gabby old relative, or even an act of humility when I didn't tell somebody I'd heard their joke before, but I more often have tension, exhaustion, mental dust bunnies, unresolved conflict at work, undone responsibilities.
Gotta offer it all up, a dusty wilted stale-smelling spiritual bouquet. Remember those? I found one I wrote out for my mother in a prayer book: One Our Father, One Hail Mary, One Glory Be and Playing With My Little Brother So My Mother Could Rest. Were that it was still so simple.