Jesus on my plate, Saint Michael in my laundry, my pet adoption addiction, and why satan gets no pum

Yesterday afternoon, before settling down to do some work, I went downstairs to look for my tweezer in my daughter's room. I ended up doing three loads of laundry, cleaning the guinea pig cage, washing the floors, and dusting and vacuuming my daughter's room.

I never got the tweezers.

I never got to the work.

This morning, after prayer, I opened my email to find Bishop Barron's reflection on today's Gospel. I ended up on Petfinder, looking at the animals in need of adoption. And then I checked Instagram...and then got up to make more coffee. Went to the bathroom. Helped my son with a bagel. Texted my other son some Scripture because what college boy doesn't love to wake up before 9am on a Saturday to read Scripture his mom texted. Then I let the dog out. Helped clean up a broken plate. Thought about what I need to do today. Stepped outside.

I did finally read the Gospel reflection.

But I also might have read another email first.

There is a lot on my plate this week ---it feels like a Thanksgiving dinner, only without the thanks part ---just a lot of food --- and I am desperately in need of some serious prioritizing and focus. But what remains at the center of the piled on dish, is Jesus. I am truly at a place where I am happy to wipe every meat and potato off of this over loaded platter I am calling life and poorly balancing, and leave only Jesus.

And I am not sure how I have arrived at this place...to what at least feels like true surrender...but I suppose we all have a choice. Get to the end of yourself...and keep grasping at the world to help you back up. Or, get to the end of yourself, and finally let go and fall into the sweet arms of Jesus.

I have chosen the world, before you know.

And spoiler alert: it doesn't work.

The "deceiver of the world" has something to do with that.

The accuser and "Father of lies" loves when we grasp at what is empty and only a path to misery.

Praise be to God for the grace upon grace that has shed some light and opened the eyes of this hot mess sinner to recognize that evil is real and always on the prowl and that the only way to avoid a life of plodding and complaining is to run into the arm of Christ and whisper "thank you" over and over and over again.

I am also greatly encouraged to tackle all the things and find the rest in the mess, being that today is the feast day of the archangels. Saint Michael...I am making you a loaf of pumpkin bread with chocolate chips today...because it is the least I can do for an angel I am CERTAIN protects my children and has saved them from death. CERTAIN.

(The pumpkin loaf is probably more for me...but I offer all of the stirring and baking to you, great protecting angel...and for my scattered sheep who need to come home...I especially offer the stirring...as that is exactly what God does in my heart. He stirs. He gets to every dry crumb and brings it up from the bottom of the bowl...mixing it with the good stuff, bringing it to life, creating something delicious and wonderful to be warmed, sliced and shared. See that? I just managed to turn eating sugar into an offering...I am either brilliant or full of you know what)

But back to the point....which clearly, I have trouble staying on...Saint Michael.

I had a medal of Saint Michael blessed, and gave it to my son when he headed off to college. Within two weeks, it was lost. In fact, all was lost. And so a war raged on and the battle heated up, and more than a year later, on a day this son of mine needed the kind of protection a sorrowful mother can not provide...I found it. In the laundry. There he was. Saint Michael was in the laundry.

And he is in the cooking and stirring and baking and cleaning.

And now I am thinking he might be in Petfinder too....because there was a really cute pup in need of home....just saying...

good grief, Saint Michael...protect me from the desire to bring home live animals when my life needs anything BUT another pet.

And thank you for your constant protection, for fighting on my behalf, and looking after my flock.

Satan...game over. You get no pumpkin break today.