From my Lenten reading, In Conversation with God:
...we will normally find the Cross each day in the sort of petty annoyances that may occur at work, and which usually present themselves to us through people around us. It may be something unexpected, the difficult character of a person with whom we have to live, plans perhaps that have to be changed at the last minute, stubborn materials or instruments of work that fail us when we most need them. Discomfort, maybe caused by cold, or heat, or noise . . . misunderstandings. A below-par seediness that impairs our efficiency on a particular day...
We have to accept these daily pinpricks courageously, offering them to God in a spirit of reparation without complaint. Those mortifications that crop up unexpectedly can help us, if we receive them well, to grow in the spirit of penance that we need so much, and to improve in the virtues of patience, of charity, of understanding: that is to say, in holiness. If we receive our setbacks with a bad spirit, it can cause us to rebel, or to become impatient or discouraged. Many Christians have lost their joy at the end of the day, not because of big reverses, but because they have not known how to sanctify the tiredness caused by work, or the little snags and minor frustrations which have arisen during the day. When we accept the Cross--little or great--it produces peace and joy in the midst of pain and is laden with merits for eternal life.....The Christian who goes through life systematically avoiding sacrifice will not find God, will not find happiness. What he will have been taking care to avoid is his own sanctity.
First, how did this guy get a look into my house and head? Because it is exactly the issue that I am dealing with. Now and maybe always.
Seen objectively, I am one of the most fortunate women on the planet. Unfortunately, I don't see myself objectively. By the end of the day I have convinced myself that I am really the next Joan of Arc, only worse, because instead of being burned at the stake, I am being nibbled to death by ducks. Self-pity reigns. And all because of the petty annoyances of the day. White dog hair everywhere. Dishes piled up. A two year old whining, "But I WANT to!" over and over. Dinner to do, again. Laundry to do, again. Bathrooms to clean, again.
Last night, in the midst of yet another bout with insomnia, it hit me what a great gift becoming Catholic has been. When I could not even think straight, because I was so tired, yet couldn't fall asleep, I could at least pray the Rosary. When I couldn't think of anything to tell God, I could fall back on what we have been telling God for centuries.
So I arose this morning, tired in body, but happier in spirit. The world hasn't changed. But maybe one molecule of me has.