A few mornings ago, I went to sit at my regular pew at daily Mass and there was the most lovely little prayer card, just lying there on the seat. Staring up at me from the card was the image of the Divine Mercy, but that’s not why the prayer card was lovely. It was lovely because of the worn, tattered edges and creased lines that crisscrossed (no pun intended) the tiny piece of paper. It was lovely because it had been handled so much that, like the Velveteen Rabbit, it had become “real”. Please, if you don’t know that quote from the Velveteen Rabbit story, look it up… and get your handkerchief out. You’ll need it. So, I reached down to slide the little prayer card over, (Jesus was in my seat) and the second I touched it, I kid you not, I felt His grace radiate up through my fingertips. Maybe it was static electricity but I’m choosing to believe otherwise.
The raggedy little rectangle of worn paper was fragile when I picked it up. It drooped as I turned it over and then…it really hit me. It wasn’t just a prayer card, it was a funeral card. A short, sweet poem and a final blessing in the last two lines and it was more than I could process so early in the morning. With tears streaming down, I lowered myself to the kneeler. Whoever had been holding on to this tiny, paper tether had seemingly cast their cares upon Him and like Christ’s battered body on the Cross the scrap of thin paper showed the scars.
Of course, I was apprehensive about leaving it there when Mass was over, but I didn’t dare remove it. I had prayed that whoever left it, would be back. I pictured them as I would be… frantic and anxious, searching the pews for such a valuable thing. As I walked to my truck, I began thinking about the gift of the Divine Mercy; after all, it is the season of giving. And I wondered if mercy weren’t the best possible gift. The image of the shabby, little prayer card and the thought of the gift of mercy stayed with me all day, and in and out of my thoughts for the following day.
I found out why the thoughts continued. The next Mass I went to was the vigil Mass for the feast of the Immaculate Conception. The priest spoke eloquently about… wait for it… the gift of mercy. He urged that if you were going to confession, to consider that gift of mercy. Forgiveness has been showered on us all unreservedly and that perhaps in receiving mercy in the sacrament, you could then extend that mercy to others. Gift indeed. People say that God works in mysterious ways. Of course that’s true. However, sometimes He’s not so mysterious. Sometimes He’s that small voice from a scrap of colored paper; electric and clear. You’ve had plenty of mercy showered on you. It continues to rain down on you and always will. You’ve got plenty of it to give. Be generous with your mercy this Christmas.
