My favorite story

Holy Week has always been the time when I try to tackle a difficult book — by that, I mean a book that I can’t read in my usual pace. I choose this time because I don’t have to go to work from Thursday to Sunday, and being Catholic, I don’t make plans those days because it’s always been filled with family and Church traditions. I always dream of finishing at least two hard to read books during my Holy Week break but I almost always end up reading only one because the break is filled with activities.

This Holy Week is no different, and I meant to try to get a chunk off reading my first non-fiction book that I’ve picked up again after a long time (Come Be My Light by Mother Teresa). I’ve barely gotten 1/4 of it and I know for sure that it will take some time for me to read it because I’ve been distracted by other books. On the up side, I’ve finished three of my Required Reading books for this month, and there’s a very good chance I’ll probably finish the fourth within the month. Yay me, right?

But I digress. I’ve read a lot of books this year and the past year since last Holy Week. I’ve marveled at so many good stories, gushed at so many good novels. I’ve shrugged at not so good ones, I’ve wrinkled my nose at some and I’ve vowed to forget the others I really didn’t like. I remember gasping at the books that blew my mind, telling everyone to read it because it was just oh-so-awesome.

But you know what I realized this Holy Week? There is one story that still beats all the other ones I’ve read in my lifetime, and it’s one that I knew by heart ever since I was old enough to understand it. Sometimes, I think I know it so much, I’ve heard about it so much that it becomes too familiar and it doesn’t have that much effect on me as it always should. I’ve never made it a secret that I am a devout Catholic in this blog, and I think it pretty much shows in how I review some of the books I’ve read. Sometimes, though, I think with all the books I’ve read, I tend to forget the One story that really matters. All those stories tend to overshadow the story of all stories, the one that is not really just a story, but one I believe with all my heart and soul to be the truth.

This Holy Week reminded me of my favorite (true) story, the one that has put me where I am right now, the one that reminds me of who I am and whose I am. This story has everything that I’ve ever really wanted: conflict, drama, betrayal, action. There’s even a bit of romance, but not the kind of romance that I usually read, but a bigger kind, the one that encompasses a bigger kind of love that I can’t fathom sometimes. I don’t think there’s much witty humor, but there is so much JOY at the end of the story, that it beats all the shallow laughter I get from the witty banter I have read. This is the story of ALL stories, and one that makes my heart beat faster and harder, never fails to drive me to tears and always, always makes me thankful and wanting to live better in the end.

It’s the story that I relive every Holy Week. The one story that really matters, the one worth more than 5 stars. :) And this one just always blows my mind (and my heart) every time I hear it and relive it.

And may that never change. May Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection never fail to make me stop, never fail to take my breath away and remind me of the great love He had for me (and for you) every time I (we) remember.

Happy Easter, everyone. :)