Lord, make of me a monstrance,
The Eucharist as my heart,
That all may see your light in me
And know how great Thou art.

I wrote that little prayer-poem 14 years ago, and it has become a regular, private prayer nearly every time I receive the Blessed Sacrament. Like so many little prayers of mine, I pray it in earnest, but wonder if it will ever bear fruit.

I recently started a new job writing for the University of Mary. This required me to step away from most of my parish writing duties, so, at the August monthly staff meeting, Father invited my colleagues to offer their thoughts and affirmation of the work I’ve done over the past five years.

Since it’s generally known that we plan to move to North Dakota next summer, the scope of Father’s initial request grew beyond the confines of my communications work to the impact of our family’s full 20+ years at St. Michael Catholic Church. One friend referred to us as “a St. Michael institution,” which paralleled another friend’s words while she waited in line to see Brother Jude (our second son, formerly known as Gabe): “I don’t know if you realize the the impact of your family on others in the parish, just seeing you all together in the pews.” She said the faithfulness of our family gives hope to others.

One by one, my colleagues shared what they observe in me, in Jodi, in our children. They described me in ways I aspire to but don’t feel. By the end, I was fighting back tears.

“Thank you all for sharing,” I choked. “You see me in ways I don’t see myself.”

“Let that speak into your heart, my friend,” said Father, before praying a blessing.

A few days later, I was at Mass, and again breathed the prayer above. A thought occurred: If I pray, “Make of me a monstrance,” why should I be surprised that other people see something in me that I do not?

A monstrance is only a vessel: a special, see-through container that holds up Jesus and permits the light to shine through Him, enabling Him to be seen. The vessel may be beautiful itself, but it is above all functional: It does nothing except hold up Jesus for others.

I have been praying to be a vessel, and the Lord has granted that request. Perhaps one reason I haven’t noticed is that sometimes I aspire to more: I want to shine myself, not let His light shine through me. Sometimes we pray to accomplish big things for Him and fail to see that He is offering daily blessings and working little miracles every day, through us.

Thank you, Jesus, for granting me the gift of holding you up for others to see. Help me to remember my role as a vessel and keep myself empty, transparent, and humble. Make my heart a God-size space, a tabernacle worthy of You. Amen.

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