Christ the King

Before smart phones, Drew and I used actual maps to get around England. Tourist Information 
handed out city maps with large Ps for parking areas and Ts for toilets—a particularly helpful feature. In one city, I popped out of the car in search of the T on the map but could not locate the facilities. I stopped a local woman and asked her where I might find the nearest restroom. She looked at me as if I were insane and queried, “You want to take a nap?”

Words are funny things—carrying different meanings and connotations for various people. For example, I have weird feelings about the word sacrifice. Thanks to my Catholic upbringing, the word brings to mind images of St. Sebastian’s chest fullof arrows or St. Lucy’s little plate with her eyes on it. Sacrifice suggests doing something you really, really, really don’t want to do.

I prefer the words self giving. Here’s how I see it (with apologies to St. Lucy): God gives God’s self to
us. We can be conduits of grace by giving of ourselves to others. My ability to give of time to others, to give of my self to others flows from God’s gift to me. That river-that-flows image is a lot less scary than being shot with arrows or having my eyes plucked out.

Some might say self giving is not the same thing as sacrifice. I would counter that they are not too far
apart on the map of a spiritual journey. But then, I’m the woman who apparently was looking for a
place to nap in the middle of an English village.