Yesterday, I went to the funeral of the wife of a friend. They were only married a few years, with a young daughter.
I didn't have to go. It would have been okay if I had said something the next time I saw him. I had a lot I needed to do yesterday. I would probably have to work late if I went. And I never know what to say at funerals.
But something told me to go. So I did.
He hadn't expected to see me there. And it meant so much to him that I had come on a busy day (I know, because he told me). It was a small sacrifice on my part. But it meant a lot to him.
And then it hit me. The sacrificial love in last Sunday's Gospel? It's not just the big sacrifices that only God can make. It's also the little sacrifices, the ones all of us can make.