Small sparks of feeling that become all-consuming conflagrations can happen at any time, even, sadly, as one is preparing for Mass.
I write, of course, from experience.
The details aren’t important. Life is hard sometimes. Living with others, even when we love and value them, can still be a challenge. Stupid arguments encourage thoughtless pronouncements that turn seeming scud missiles – destructive enough – into H-bombs, where exteriors look unharmed while inside there is startling, shriveling death.
Our family has a beautiful vegetable garden, one that I spend a great deal of time in during the summer months. Our raised beds are bursting with life and flavor. My mother has a green thumb, and I learned early on in life that gardens are the work of years, not months, and that gardening is work to be done in all seasons.