Blabbermouth Saint

We're all called to be saints as it simply means reaching heaven and being with God. If the term is capitalized, then a Saint is someone recognized by the Church as one who lived heroic virtue on earth; one reasonably anticipated to be found in heaven even given a sign of such by a miracle or more. Saints aren't the opposite of sinners, they don't have immunity. They are sinners striving for holiness. Saints say yes to God. 

At times I've been teased for being a saint, even when I was little. I feel awkward about that and don't know how to respond. For I feel so very very far for where I'd like to be on this cow path to holiness. Sins and attachments to this world I have aplenty. Lent is for lattes and laziness and lectio divina and beginning again and again. The striving is real. I suppose I am prone to talk and write about God and the amazing things I've seen Him do. There's really nothing else I'd rather do than have honest conversations about where one encountered God and how that experience informs a next step in life. If that makes me saint material, then I'm a blabbermouth saint. Jesus writes me love letters and I share every remembered detail with all my friends. He wraps me up in a heart in the sky and I go on speaking tours. He healed me and I'm compelled to make the return trip in gratitude. Notice the one being healed isn't usually the Saint in the stories. 

I once thought the deepest desire of my heart was complete union with God. Then Jesus whispered my name and I was His. I had a rear view glimpse of the shadow of a foretaste of a sliver of the arm of the chair in the waiting room of heaven. Now I'm a tiny bit concerned that I won't be completely fulfilled in that final union if others are missing out on union with God too because they reject Him. So Lord, if you've called me to be a Blabbermouth Saint, I'll keep talking. If you'd rather I be a still small voice, well, it may be too late and I'll need some more redemption and maybe a cloister. So quiet me, Lord or lend me your trumpet. And may we all be saints with big or little s's and big or little yeses.