While engaged to my husband, I went to a Sunday Mass with my family. A visiting priest had come and gave me a very unique glimpse at the Gospel where Jesus performs his first miracle, changing water to wine at the wedding at Cana.
Cradle Catholic that I am, I'd heard that Gospel read, explained, and broken down a number of times.
This time was different because the priest made me consider for the first time that this was a marriage taking place. A wedding for a couple on path to spend their lives together. A couple that in modern times, would have picked up the inner envelopes and scribed, "Mary" and "Jesus". While it may not have been as formally composed, it would have been deliberate that Jesus and Mary be invited to attend. I like to muse what the connection was, friends, family, acquaintances...and it does not matter really, because they were invited and they were there.
|A wedding gift from a close friend - hangs in our dining room.|
So the priest continued, just as the couple invited Jesus and Mary to the wedding, you should invite Jesus and Mary into your marriage. If you do, then when inevitably, the cup of love that you fill runs out, Jesus will be there to refill it. This resonated with me so much, that we chose the Wedding at Cana for our wedding Gospel. I asked Jesus and Mary to enter into the marriage, even when they seemed uninvited, because I knew we would need Mary to direct us to Jesus who could fill our cup of love.
I've been married 9 years so far, and I can't complain even about little things. It has been happy and blessed. I think I can sum up my daily feelings right now as always tired, always content, and always very blessed.
There are loads of other feelings as well. Anger, frustration, pride, ingratitude, disgust, laziness, selfishness, entitlement, and crankiness. Not one of these is ever called for, but I'm not exactly nailing this perfection thing. So when I'm annoyed that my husband because he forgot something I told him 3 years ago at 11:00pm after he had fallen asleep, I wrap myself up in some sort of petty prideful frustration while I point out to myself all the ways he's ever messed up. I'm quite content to build up my ego this way for a while as I go about my day.
Then those invited Guests grab my attention in a really peevish way. I enter the hallway and see I left the garage light on again, even though my husband begs me to turn it off when I'm not using it. Or I open the basement door and see the loads of stuff piled at the top to go down, even though I've been asked to take it all the way down for the sake of safety. Jesus nudges me in the direction of the car I scraped up because I am the world's worst driver and my husband is so incredibly forgiving about it. It is really hard to hang onto any resentment when I think about that. Then I feel all kinds of sorry and as would be expected, the petty thing looks petty and I am delivered a dose of much needed humility.
In over 9 years, I have never gone to sleep angry. Yes, I decided to marry a really great guy. Almost perfect, actually. I'm pretty sure, though, that I could easily let the .02% he has left to grow drain every last drop from my cup of love if Jesus didn't continue to intervene and fill it up.