Actually, I’m stealing Job’s. The first reading for Mass on Sunday, February 8th was Job 7:1-4, 6-7:
Has not man a hard service upon earth, and are not his days like the days of a hireling? Like a slave who longs for the shadow, and like a hireling who looks for his wages, so I am allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery are apportioned to me. When I lie down I say, ‘When shall I arise?’ But the night is long, and I am full of tossing till the dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and come to their end without hope. ‘Remember that my life is a breath; my eye will never again see good.
We arrived at Mass a little early. My husband went to light a candle for someone, while I sat in the pew. I organized the pew rack, then I kneeled to pray, and then I read the readings for the day. When I finished this passage from Job, I looked up to the tabernacle and said, “Job’s words are my words.”