Call me Mary

Call me Mary - go ahead. No, seriously. Call me, "Mary."
Mary or Martha. Who am I?
Today I was Mary. I mean... I was Mary!
I can't think of a time before this that I wasn't Martha, but today I was Mary. That doesn't mean that taking up the standard role of Martha didn't come to mind, but it was only for less than a moment. Clearly I couldn't be Martha - after all, I had signed up to be Mary.
Okay, "What is she talking about?," you might ask. I would probably wonder about you if you didn't ask that question, yet continued to read. I mean, really - where do I come off blathering on with nonsensical talk about being Mary, not Martha. Is this an entry about a psychotic split or what? How could I expect you to read on? Oh, yeah... I guess I should clarify.
The answer is simple.
I sat with Jesus while someone else flitted about noisily preparing things. I didn't even offer to help. I gazed at Him thinking of His wondrous ways. The person making the noise may or may not have wanted me to volunteer to help - I am pretty certain she did - but with no one else in the church to focus upon our Lord, I wasn't about to walk around lifting kneelers so that maybe, just maybe, someone would notice that the kneelers were uniformly in the up position before people arrived for the evening devotion and homily. It just wasn't going to happen. Nope. And you know what? It felt right.
In fact, it was right. Peace.