Make me an instrument

As a young girl I was told that I'd have to pick a confirmation name and a person to represent me on confirmation day. Not knowing why really or what that meant,  as a act of obligation rather than spiritual connectedness, I was told that choosing my Aunt was the right thing to do.  I wasn't particularly fond of this Aunt and I certainly wasn't fond of the name I was strongly encouraged to take.

Francis....seriously?!

So like all the good Catholic girls I put on the white dress, veil, shiny white shoes and best of all, ruffled socks. I confirmed my faith as I was told to do and added the name Francis to my already difficult to pronounce name. That day I became Constance Sue Francis, literally Connie Francis!  The embarrassment I felt of having that silly name lasted awhile.    What that had to do with Jesus I still don't understand.

But Francis slowly was woven into my tapestry.  The thread was small and not a prominent color, but  a subtle, surprising thread woven into me - spiritually.  Not by any planning or conscience thought, but by the Creator who knew from the start that names mean something.

After confirmation I began reading about St. Francis.  I read about a man conflicted with his earthly Father, devoted to doing something of purpose for those less fortunate by earthly standards.  A thread that began being woven in a young girl in a cathedral in Missouri became more an example to me as I read of a life lived in devotion to God.  He has been a part of my spiritual journey, without any real planning, from that point on.

On my wedding day, it was the prayer of St. Francis that my new husband and I decided to read, the life of St. Francis that I find so compelling, and today while walking a very difficult journey with my sister, it is St. Francis that God once again brings to mind.

Make me an instrument, Lord.