Good Deeds

As it's Lent, I've been trying to teach my son about sacrifice and the three pillars of Lent: Prayer, Fasting and Almsgiving. He has a "Good Deeds Cross" which he cut out of red construction paper. Every time he does a good deed, he gets to put a sticker on the Cross, beautifying it for Easter.

In the beginning, he was constantly saying things like, "I got my sister her water. Is that a good deed?...I got dressed when you asked me to. Was that a good deed?...I'm holding the door open for you, Mommy. Is that a good deed?" So I explained that a good deed is a little different from being nice or fulfilling your responsibilities. It requires a sacrifice. If you hold the door open for someone while you're on your way out or in, that's nice, but it's not a good deed. A good deed would be if Mommy had her hands full while you were on the couch or in the other room, and you saw that she needed help, got up and held the door for her. You have to do difficult things that you don't really want to do for the sake of others in order for it to be a good deed. If it's easy or if you're supposed to do it anyway, then it doesn't count for a sticker.

Isn't it funny how the Lord teaches us through our teaching our children? Two days after I came home from visiting my family, I was in the city and stopped for gas. While pumping, I noticed a homeless man begging on the side of the road. I was in raptures. I had $2 in my wallet and now that I have a budget for charity, I could follow my impulse and give it to him. So I walked over and said hello, asked his name and chatted with him a bit. He wanted a hug and we shared one; he patted my hair and thanked me for the money. I returned to my car just absolutely glowing with love and the warmth of human contact.

That's when it hit me: this is easy. Really, really easy. Giving a homeless man a hug and $2 cost me nothing and made me feel absolutely wonderful. I saw myself standing in front of God with my little construction paper Cross and asking "Is that a good deed?" I was reminded, sheepishly, of Isiah 64: "Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in our ways! Behold, you are angry, and we are sinful; all of us have become like unclean men, all our good deeds are like polluted rags."

Being nice to a stranger for two minutes is not difficult. It's not a sacrifice. It doesn't make me draw upon God for strength or challenge me to humble myself. It is absolutely a good thing to do, but it is not, as I would term it, a "good deed." It's not worthy of a sticker on my Cross.

Scripture readings this week have been reiterating the same points to me: do not fear the truth, but act always in love. I have no problem acting in love to strangers. I'm overtly kind to waitresses and grocery checkers. I always wave to construction workers. I make eye contact and smile at people I pass on the street. I'm even patient and nice to telemarketers. That stuff is easy. But I struggle with how to act with love towards my family. I am very bad about loving people when they mock the principles I hold dearest. I find it hard to be nice to family members who treat others with disdain or cruelty. I frequently fail to keep my tone sweet when talking to my children, or hold my temper when they act contrarily or make constant demands.

I have been praying a Litany of Humility daily to remind myself that I must do things not for the way they make me feel, but for love of God and a sincere desire to please Him.

Oh Jesus, meek and humble of heart, hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being loved,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being honored,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being praised,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted,
deliver me Jesus.
From the desire of being approved,
deliver me Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being despised,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged,
deliver me Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected,
deliver me Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I unnoticed,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I become as holy as I should,
Jesus grant me the grace to desire it. AMEN

Just a note: my trip to visit family was probably the best one I've ever had. Most of that wasn't my doing. There really weren't any situations that taxed my patience or made me uncomfortable. Everyone was happy, nice, relaxed and considerate the whole time. But I felt different while I was there. I didn't feel pressure to DO anything or say the exact right thing that might fix all the problems. I just concentrated on being loving and quiet. That didn't mean I never said a thing; but I never had an agenda, if that makes sense. If it weren't for the plane trips next to a squealing, flailing, grabbing, whining, demanding, fussing, peeing, spilling, toy-flinging toddler, it would have been the perfect vacation!