When I was ten years old, I asked Saint Therese for a kitten.
It makes me laugh now, but back then I desperately wanted one. My aunt, who knew more about Saint Therese than I did, had told me that she promised a shower of roses to whoever invoked her aid.
So I begged for that kitten. After all, it had to be easier than sending a torrential downpour of roses.
Years later, my youth minister gave me a book about her spirituality called “I Believe in Love.” I started reading it – no, I raced through it. I could relate to her so much more than any other saint I’d yet encountered.
She fell asleep while praying, messed up her daily chores …
This past Sunday my day started with a run. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone for a run or not, but you kind of get in this “zone.” It was just me, the sun, the pavement … my gasping breath (but that’s embarrassing to talk about) and my thoughts. I didn’t want to miss this quiet opportunity to chat with God, so I let Him know I was listening to whatever He wanted to tell me.
I began praying about what I should write this week and the simplest thing came to me. I felt like God was telling me to let you know that I’m praying for you. I honestly thought the idea was kind of lame (sorry, God). It seemed too basic.