Yesterday I was at Mass with my household. As is our wont, we sat as close to the front as possible. So, when the priest (as is his wont, and the liturgical norm to boot) kissed the altar on his way out, I had a good view of it. I was somewhat surprised to find myself suddenly thinking, If I were a man I would be a priest just so I could do that.
(As a side note: I was very put out when, at the age of 8 or 9, I found out women couldn't be priests. When I was about 12 I decided that I would be the mother of a priest instead. I guess we'll see what my sons think of that idea....)
As I was praying after Mass, I wondered why it was that I was in such a state of longing. I mean, I had received the Eucharist perhaps ten minutes before. How much closer can you get? Even going and sitting against the Tabernacle would not have gotten me any closer to that Presence.
I don't know the answer to that question. Perhaps the Eucharist is as close as you can get, and my sinful little soul keeps me from receiving all the graces. Perhaps there is some way of getting closer; though likely I'll have to wait for Heaven to find that out.
The other day I had a sort of waking dream that I was climbing up the cross to lie on Jesus' chest and listen to His heartbeat. (Yes, I was lying on a vertical surface. It was a dreamlike state; physics do not apply.) That's how close I want to be. That's how much I want to want Him; that I go to him regardless of the fact that I'm getting His blood all over me; regardless of the fact that in order to be near Him I have to share His cross.