A supernumerary speaks about her daily life    

As soon as I saw this website, I wanted to help, but I couldn't imagine how.  Reading the various testimonials and blogs, I’ve been inspired, informed and encouraged.  Thoughts of admiration occur to me, “So and so is so intelligent, or poised, or courageous; that one is so generous.”    

          What do I have to offer to God each day at Mass?  Most of the time, I don’t seem to have much more than my infirmities to offer.  My own self-mastery is far from achieved, even though I’ve been working at this vocation for almost thirty years now. 

           Certain times of the year, spring for example, can be particularly brutal on my family.  As a homemaker, I take pride in my family business and my work space. My house is fairly tidy at the moment but at times with various project deadlines looming, chaos abounds. I sometimes fear that a person other than a family member might show up at the door, someone I might actually have to invite in!   I think to myself, I’ll tell them to just wait, until I’m a bit more perfect; 30 years of struggling to grow holier hasn’t seemed to be long enough yet!

          What calms me down?  Thinking and praying. I recalled the words of someone in Opus Dei who once said, “The Church is not a museum of saints but a hospital for sinners.”  That made sense.  What have I learned over the years?  Let me begin by telling you about one of the times when God “spoke” to me with particular clarity.

          It was Good Friday of 1993.  When I picked up the newspaper that morning I noticed on the bottom left side of the front page of the Boston Globe that Marion Anderson, the great African American singer, had died.  Until I found something years ago that I wanted more, I had always hoped that I might someday become a great African- American pianist.  Later that afternoon, as I sat in the back of the Cathedral of The Holy Cross in Boston with my youngest son, I remember thinking “well, I’ll never be on the front page of the Globe, but at least I know I’m doing what God wants me to do.”  Shortly thereafter, a young photographer showed up and started taking pictures.  Afterwards, he told me to look for the picture in the Globe on Saturday. I thought, yeah, right…

          The next morning my husband went outside to get the newspaper. That day everyone saw on the front page of the Boston Globe “Brenda Thordarson and her son Joseph taking part in Good Friday services…”  Funny how God works. 

I can tell you that I am supremely happy these days.  Oh, we have our problems, but at the same time I experience what joy there is to be found in the Heart of Christ. That is what I have learned from Opus Dei.  Do I have a perfect house all the time? Absolutely not.  Do I think it’s alright to live in a pigpen? Of course not. I struggle like every parent and professional person who owns a home and tries to keep it up.  When I at least attempt to do God’s will each day, when I manage to keep on going even when I’m tired, I have more peace, and usually less mess.

          St. Josemaria once told a married couple that if they didn’t love each other’s faults, then they didn’t love enough.  As a wife, I thought this was a bit too much to ask.   It did take quite a while for God to bring me around to this one, but eventually He did.  Does that mean I never again have the urge to heave an orange at my husband when he seems to behave in a particularly “brain damaged” way?  No!  It just means that I don’t always give in to those reactions like I used to. I can honestly tell you that I do love his faults (I didn’t say I “like” them) because in learning to love his faults, and to accept my own, I have also learned a bit more about what it means to love with the Heart of Christ and what it means to be truly human - to be Opus Dei, to be a work of God.

          We are all the same, you and I, that’s what I’ve learned over all these years. Some people manage to accomplish a lot each day, while others can only lay in a bed and smile. But what I have learned is that no matter how near or far a person finds themselves from God, we are all wounded souls trying to find our way home, even those who don’t know it. 

What resonates with me often are those words that the founder of Opus Dei would repeat: “We are all God’s children, and out of 100 souls, He’s interested in all 100!”  I am grateful to have those words encourage me each day.