Just a grain of wheat

I am just a grain of wheat, what can I do on my own? I can only worry if the bread that we are called to give to humanity will satisfy their hunger, after all I am only one grain. Yet together we form many grains that can nourish because we are willing to die, to lose the husk of pride, of envy, of egocentric living. ‘If the grain of wheat does not fall into the ground and die, it cannot produce fruit’  This is a real Eucharistic life, to become broken for others, it is a paradox, in our brokenness we generate life.
During this week  I thought often of the disciples as they travelled on their way to Emmaus, searching for the Risen Lord, wanting to hear that voice that allowed Mary to cry out with joy ‘Master’ on that first Easter morning. Searching, searching on a road that leads anywhere once it leads away from Jerusalem, the horrible reminder of the scene of despair. The Stranger meets them on the road and walks with them. He is their Eucharist, helping to remember and to be grateful. Lord, you present yourself in each one of my sisters whose presence alone helps me to remember that you are God…and therefore to give thanks. I think of another moment: “were not our hearts burning within us?’. This is the challenge...my heart burned within me as I deepen my relationship as a disciple at the school of the Eucharist and of the Word, and as the Liturgy of life flowed through my heart, It is this heat, this cooking which cooks this individual grain of wheat, purifying it from its sin and allowing it to be at the service of the world , to be apostles of hope who from the depths of the Paschal mystery can cry out . He is Risen.