moving mountains

Mustard has been quite a topic over the past week. An odd thing, really, since we really only ever say the word mustard when we have hot dogs. And we haven't had them since summer, that I can remember. Earlier this week, we had meatloaf for dinner, which involved putting it together the night before, and then having one of the boys turning on the bread machine, and then adding a glaze. (Yes, the meatloaf is cooked in the bread machine, and it is soooooo good!) Son #2 helped me with the shopping list before he mixed together the meatloaf. (Raw meat is something I try to avoid whenever possible. Maybe someday I'll work through that.....) Combing through the recipe, he asked, "What's 'prepared mustard?'" I explained that it's mustard like we put on hot dogs; mustard that is made into the condiment, rather than mustard seeds or mustard powder.

In the morning, I told Son #3 and Son #4, individually, that we would need them to help out by turning on dinner, and making the glaze. Each of them asked, in turn, "What's 'prepared mustard?'" I explained to each of them, getting the same result from each of them: "Ah. I see."

I thought nothing of it. They had never seen the term before, and I always chuckle a little when I see prepared mustard listed as an ingredient. I would only think that I was using mustard powder or mustard seeds if they were specifically listed--unless I was making pickles. Then I would know that I need mustard seeds.

Last night, I was at the vespers discussion group at church, and somehow the discussion came around to depth of faith. As we talked, and I told about the faith I viewed versus the faith I felt, pieces started to fall into place. Talking about the promise I made to learn about my faith, to ask and seek answers to the questions I come across, I pointed out that I always knew my faith was there; it just seemed to me to be smaller than that of my father, my husband, some of my friends--all people whose faith I had always admired. People whose faith, in all honesty, I envied (ironically!). Suddenly, I saw a connection to last week's Lenten struggles, and the mustard questions of the week.

"My faith was always there; it was just small--Like a mustard seed!" Grins and nodding all around. And I realized I'd had the gifts I needed all along.

Those questions I have are questions I should ask. Asking questions, seeking knowledge, is something I work toward in my secular life. Why I would resist asking, learning and wondering in my spiritual life is something I don't yet understand. My husband and I are exploring that together, though. Nine months or so ago, I made a promise to God that I would put my faith and future in His hands, and that I would, therefore, learn. And I have learned so much, but most of all I've learned that there is far more to learn than I ever will.

And that's a beautiful thing. One of the most beautiful things about faith.

Then this morning, I was reading my book (The story of a soul, by St. Therese of Lisieux), and she mentioned her mustard seed faith. And tonight, the meditation I read on the Luminous Mysteries mentioned mustard seeds.

Coincidence? I think not.