In adoration last week, I noticed Fruit Loops scattered on the floor under the pew in front of me. I started fretting over them—where did they come from? A child must have dropped them earlier in the day. How long had they been there?
Adoration was ending, and they were going to lock up the church and chapel soon. I thought, I can’t leave those Fruit Loops there, but how should I clean them up?
Even if I grabbed paper towels from the bathroom, there’s a man kneeling over the Fruit Loops. I can’t disrupt his praying and ask him to move. What should I do?
Jesus interrupted my Fruit Loop fretting to tell me that I was being Martha and He needed me to be Mary for a while. Someone will come clean up the Fruit Loops, He said. Right now your job is to sit and listen. Oh.
We are all Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, aren’t we? Working and worrying too much, content to sit and be with the Lord but tied up by the trials and tribulations of life, family. An open house, a home-cooked meal, good conversation: these are some of the beloved human experiences Jesus shared with them—with us—during his time on earth. I believe there are a lot of moments shared with Lazarus and his family that don’t appear in the gospels, that Jesus kept for Himself, that offered Him comfort in His final moments. Why share them with us at all?
As always, to teach us. To show us. To give us a guide.
This past spring, while I was in the throes of postpartum and my son was in the NICU, I came across a social media post quoting Jesus after He raises Lazarus from the dead:
I paused. This line perfectly encapsulated how I felt every time I snaked my hands through the windows of my son’s isolette to change his diaper, careful not to pull on his leads, the monitors furiously beeping at me the minute I disturbed his safe, warm bubble. Just as Jesus chose to wait at the news of Lazarus’ illness, so do parents when their baby is born. Parents endlessly wait. For their child to be discharged, to gain weight, to lift their head on their own, to roll, to crawl, to walk, to talk, etc. We are always waiting. And while we wait, we intercede.
Our child depends solely on that intercession just as Lazarus depended solely on his sisters’ intercession for him in his final moments. We pray that one day our children will be free to go out into the world and proclaim the Good News, carrying out their vocations as confident, impactful members of the body of Christ.
Martha and Mary sent word to Jesus of Lazarus’ illness and in doing so gave the world a great example of the power of intercessory prayer. They asked Jesus to help him, and even though Jesus loved Lazarus, He was not moved to His own weeping until He saw Mary sinking in her grief:
Just because the darkness that surrounds us at times is ultimately a part of God’s permissive will, doesn’t mean He isn’t there with us in the suffering. In Mary’s suffering, Jesus was moved to action: He raised Lazarus. Never underestimate the power of prayer, specifically prayer for your loved ones.
Jesus’ first response upon hearing about Lazarus was, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:4). Jesus knew the illness, literally speaking, was going to end in death. But as we know, death from this life does not mean the end of life. As Christians, in grief we cling to the hope of the Resurrection. Jesus demonstrated in His response what He would hope we would do when faced with deep turmoil: trust God even still. Tell God that we understand, on some small human level, that He is working through this darkness.
“Untie him and let him go.”
We are all Lazarus: bound by our shortcomings and able to be set free by Christ alone. Through Martha and Mary’s encounters with Jesus in the gospels, we are given a step-by-step guide on how to allow Jesus to work in our lives, to untie:
Welcome Him
“ . . . a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.” (Luke 10:38)
Listen to Him
“She had a sister named Mary who sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak.” (Luke 10:39)
Believe in Him
“‘Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one who is coming into the world.’” (John 11:27)
Happy feast day of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus! This week I challenge you to spend some intentional time in food and fellowship with your loved ones and with Jesus. Welcome Him into your heart to spend time with you, heal you, and show you how loved you are.


Rietta Parker holds a BS in secondary English education and an MA in English-Creative Writing from Auburn University. She writes fiction, poetry, reflections, and prayers. Her work has been published in Bridge: Bluffton University’s Literary Journal, Quiet Lightning, and Poet’s Choice. In 2020, her reflection on being at home in the Church was featured in The Catholic Woman’s “Portrait of a Catholic Woman” social media campaign. She’s a member of the Catholic Writers Guild where she serves as an anthology and blog editor. When she isn’t teaching or writing, she loves to sing, dance, and act.
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