Prodigal

Back in February, He spoke to me.

His words, when genuine, are always few. But they always say so much. One little sentence would exhilarate and haunt me for the next three months.

Come to the cross with Me.

I ignored it. I plugged my fingers in my ears and screamed to block out the noise.

I knew I wouldn't last. I knew I had to listen.

I wanted none of it. Now, it's all I want.

Tomorrow, I will go to the cross. I will suffer shame. I will be thoroughly humiliated. My pride is already screaming in agony at the thought. The rest of me just wants to throw up.

But His shame was worse. His humiliation was worse than mine could ever be.

Tomorrow...everything will change. Tomorrow I will stop fighting. I've fought for so long. I'm so tired. I just want to go home.

Lord Jesus, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner...

St. Maria Goretti, pray for me.