The last spot in the parking lot usually isn’t anyone’s first choice. 

It’s far from the door and usually ignored until everything else is taken.

But it still gets you inside. 

You still have a place to park your car so you can get where you need to be.

Life works the same way. 

Society tells us to go for the better seat, the closer spot, the bigger stage. 

This shows up in small ways: wanting credit at work, hoping the family notices all you do, comparing vacations or kids’ achievements with neighbors. None of those are bad in themselves, but when they become the scoreboard, they drain us. 

There will always be someone closer, faster, shinier.

The saints didn’t bother playing that game. They didn’t get to heaven by pushing into the front row. They learned to be content in the unnoticed places. Some of the holiest lives were lived almost entirely offstage: washing dishes in a convent, sitting quietly in prayer, helping a neighbor without thanks. They trusted that God sees what the world misses.

I invite you to practice this week: the next time you find yourself in the back of the parking  lot,  remember: you still got there, you still belong, and God was with you the whole walk to the door.