It's the feast of Maria Goretti. My feast day. In her honor, I had a root beer float. I often imagine that she were around today, we'd have a great deal in common. Poor as her family was, I bet gelato was a rare treat now and then.
As similar as she and I are, though, there is one thing that puts us depressingly at odds: where she succeeded, choosing to sacrifice her life rather than surrender her purity, I have failed and fail still.
Granted, things could be a lot worse, and I believe that there have been many situations where God has sheltered me from the consequences of recklessness. Now, looking back, I'm so grateful.
In my patron, I also find courage to look toward the future. While she was only 12 when she died, chastity was comfortable for her. If God had asked it of her, I have no doubt she would have lived her life that way. To me, not knowing yet where my vocation rests, it makes the thought of extended chastity a little less terrifying.
Today, I was thinking on seeing all those that have died when we reach heaven. I'm not especially devoted to any saint, except maybe Maria. "It would be so awesome to meet her," I thought.
And in that moment, I was totally humbled. At 12, she was able to do perfectly and without hesitation what I imagine I'll be fighting to do my whole life. Talk about being put to shame by a kid!
On the bright side, that's exactly why we have the communion of saints to draw on. They're not lofty people with unreachable legacies. They were ordinary people who, by grace, had the strength to do incredible things.
And if they can do it, well, why can't we?
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