Gratitude Monday: graces unasked and unlooked for

A friend of mine organizes a novena to Saint Bartholomew via Facebook each August. I’m glad to be included, because for nine days, I have to carve out—oh—five to 15 minutes to say the prayers, examine the art works accompanying the posts and contemplate the significance of that day’s devotion.

Yeah, some days, even five minutes is monumental, as you get wound up in this and that. But I do my best, even if I end up doubling up some days.

(For those unfamiliar with the novena, it’s a ritual of intercessory prayers across nine days, typically culminating on the day a particular saint is recognized in the liturgical calendar. It can be performed alone, or in the company of others. There’s an introduction, a novena prayer constant to all nine days and a prayer specific to each day. Then there are concluding prayers.)

Every year a phrase of the Saint Bart novena catches me up: “May [the saint’s] prayers obtain for us every grace and blessing we need in our lives, and we thank you for the graces you have already granted us through his intercession, especially those which have come unasked and unlooked for.” [Emphasis mine.]

Graces and blessings that come unasked and unlooked for. Huh.

How many of these surround us, filling our lives with joy and comfort? Graces and blessings we didn’t think to ask for, which surprise us every day in ways large and small? What would our lives be like without them? An unexpected call from a friend, watching a puppy squirm and wriggle in a pile of leaves, the first sip of a perfect latte, arriving safely home through urban traffic—I typically don’t think to ask for these things, and while I do try to acknowledge them when I encounter them, I don’t think I could be said to look for them.

I wonder how many of them have slipped past me in my worrisome fugue every day?

Every year this prayer reminds me that I am in fact engulfed by graces and blessings, whether I’ve asked for them or even notice them. Every year I’m stopped cold by this reminder.

But this year I was also struck by a phrase from the prayer for day nine, Saint Bartholomew’s Day: “O Glorious Saint Bartholomew, when you met Jesus you recognized him as the Son of God and the King of Israel. Pray for us that we may always recognize Jesus when we meet him.” [Emphasis mine.]

Well.

Um.

Now—this is only my interpretation, mind, and YMMV—but, I’m thinking that the Jesus we might meet these days could appear in, well, any form, really. If we limit ourselves to just humans, given how he manifested the last time—an itinerant Jew who relied on the kindness of strangers to provide him with food and shelter and did not build mega-churches, get around Galilee on the biblical equivalent of limos and private jets or exchange blessings for credit card details—it seems logical to me that 2018-Jesus might look dark-skinned as well as light; could shine through a woman’s face; may perhaps be found in a refugee camp seeking children forcibly pulled away from parents; possibly suffers from a pre-existing medical condition.

In short—we can’t rely upon the Almighty to publicize the arrival of Jesus (or even on Saint B to give us guidance in this), so we ought to be on the lookout for him or her or non-binary them…well, everywhere, really. In the supermarket, on Metro, at work (although—and this is just me being me—probably not in the boardroom or the executive suite; I could be wrong), in school, along the bike lane, out in the woods. We should be alert and receptive to him/her/them and maybe not get pissed off when they’re in the express lane with more than 15 items, or panhandling at an intersection, or wearing shabby clothes or don’t seem to be able to control their kids—which I recognize is not necessarily easy. At least, it isn’t for me.

However, by looking for Jesus everywhere, by seeking out the good and the godly and inviting these graces and blessings into our lives, I believe we can become a conduit for them to those around us; we can help bring them—unasked and unlooked for—to those around us.

And this is my grace—my gratitude—for today.