Holiness

I often envision the saints as holy men and women so far beyond our reach, thinking, "Sure, I could be holy if I didn't have to do my chores and study all the time and worry about staying in touch with everyone and remembering to fill up my gas tank." We get the idea that they just prayed all the time and worked miracles and lived on a plane so far above us, that their example seems unattainable. This is why I am so struck by St. Gianna. Maybe it's because she lived recently, or because she was a pediatrician, or because her love letters are very human and very real, but whatever the reason, she seems more like a friend than an icon. But if we took time to look, the rest of the saints can be that for us as well. Imagine a young man, a future writer whose greatest work was to be inspired by the tragic death of his closest friend at a young age; he would spend many years writing and traveling. Imagine a girl who grew up in a wealthy home, an avid reader, fell in love, got married, and became a mother of five; her husband died at a young age, and she became a convert to Catholicism and a teacher until her death at 46. Imagine a soldier, captured by the enemy, but refusing to renounce his beliefs; he is tortured, left for dead, and nursed back to health by a local woman, only to be beaten to death once he continues his assignment. These, too, are saints--John, Elizabeth Ann Seton, Sebastian--who had at once very ordinary lives and extraordinary holiness. Why? Because they knew that God had called each of them to something different, but that he calls all of us to Him. They found their greatness, but it wasn't because they were superhuman; it was because they learned to live their daily, sometimes boring lives, with devotion and love. In Marian group, we're talking about finding our greatness. I haven't discovered the answer yet, but I don't think it's beyond any of us. Happy All Saints Day.