I cut my finger and did not realize it. Then I went to wash dishes under scalding hot water and the hot water hit my raw skin. OUCH! Instead of offering it up for sinners or the souls in Purgatory I made the conscious decision to complain. Why am I so stingy with my suffering? Then I get all bummed for having let an opportunity pass. Like Mother Angelica said, "You will have more opportunity, but the one you let go is gone forever."
Literally, when I suffer, think to myself, "hhmmm, do I want to offer this up, or complain?"
Even when I make a small snackrifice...like not eating my last bite of desert, I can't keep it to myself. What is this about human nature that needs the endless praises? Or is it just me? Anyhoo, the sting of the hot water on my fresh skin(it really hurt...there I go again) reminded me of Jose Sanchez del Rio, a Mexican martyr.
On February 6, 1928, the Cristero army was overwhelmed by the federal army in fierce and bloody combat outside of Cotija. General Morfin’s horse was shot, and it looked as if he would soon be captured by the federal troops. José leapt off of his horse."General!" he shouted. "Take my mount and escape to safety. You are of far greater importance to the Cristero cause than I am."Helping Morfin up into the saddle, José delivered a hard swat across the backside of the horse and sent it galloping away. He then took his rifle and bandolier and, taking cover behind a rock, began shooting the federal soldiers closing around him. At last the boy ran out of ammunition, and standing up shouted to the enemy, "I have not surrendered. I have only stopped shooting you because I am out of cartridges."When the federal soldiers saw that they had been fired upon by a boy, they seized him in a fury. They put José in irons and dragged him off to the local church, which they had converted into a jail, a stable for their horses, and a coop for roosters they used in cockfights. These they had leashed to the church’s monstrance. Jose scolded the soldiers for desecrating a holy place.
To test his resolve, they forced José to watch as they took another captured Cristero, tortured him, and hanged him from a telegraph pole. Instead of looking away, José encouraged the prisoner, telling him that they would soon meet up in heaven. For two days, José was locked in the sacristy of the church, during which time he wrote to his mother, telling her that he had no fear, that he had welcomed the will of God and looked forward to dying in the light of our Lord. The captain of the guard offered José his freedom in exchange for information about the Cristeros, including the names of the people who were supplying them. José refused, so they pinned him down and cut the skin off the soles of his feet. At eleven at night, they marched José to the cemetery on the edge of town, all the while telling him that if he would deny Jesus Christ they would spare his life."¡ Viva Cristo Rey!" shouted José, the rallying cry of the Cristeros. "¡ Viva Cristo Rey!" over and over as he limped in his bloodied feet over the gravel and twigs. "Long Live Christ the King! Long Live the Virgin of Guadalupe!" At the graveyard, José was pushed into a shallow grave. Struggling to his feet he again shouted, "¡ Viva Cristo Rey!" To avoid the sound of gunfire, the commander of the firing squad ordered his men to stab the boy with their bayonets. "¡ Viva Cristo Rey!" Again the bayonet into his side. "¡ Viva Santa Maria de Guadalupe!""Say ‘Death to Christ the King’ and save your life!" demanded the captain of the guard."¡ Viva Cristo Rey!" The captain lost all patience and drew his own pistol. The first bullet struck José in the head, knocking him to the ground. As blood pooled next to his face, José, in a final act of defiance against the enemies of Jesus Christ who had taken over his country, dipped his hand in his blood and with it drew a cross in the dirt, then touched his lips to the cross. Six more bullets at point-blank range sent the martyr into the arms of his Savior.
Long story short.....I'm lame.