Thursday, December 31, 2009
Once again I am joining in Elizabeth Esther's Saturday Evening Blog Post. This month instead of contributing our favorite post from last month, she is asking us to share our favorite post from the last year. I chose to share Jesus Freak from last July. I think this post describes who I am very well, and I suspect it describes many of my readers as well. Sharing our faith with others is so very important,even, and sometimes especially, when it is difficult and we are ridiculed for it. God bless you all in your efforts to share your love of God and Christianity with others.
Close your tired eyes, my child
and a lullaby I'll croon
As I stroke your golden hair
shimmering in the light of the moon.
I pray that God will hold you
so closely to His heart
until the sun arises
and another day will start.
My prayer for you...
May our Blessed Mother sing many sweet lullabies for you in this New Year and fill you with peaceful dreams of heaven. Amen.
screams of delight
ring out through the stillness
as we plunge down the
cold, refreshing snowy slope
thrilled with the speed of flying
on our sleds
we rejoice together
with smiles and laughter
slowly skidding to a stop
sprays of white crystals cover us
we lay in stillness
and gaze at the glorious sky
we warm ourselves by the bonfire
while snowflakes gently flutter down
hot chocolate coats our throats and
we sigh in contentment and gratitude
thank You God for family fun
in Your wonderful winter world
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
It's that time of year again, when people everywhere focus on a fresh start. It's time to put the past behind us, the past that is full of mistakes and regrets, and focus on beginning again. I like the words of Anne of Green Gables, "tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it." I always begin each new year, each new Lent and each new Advent season with high ideals. This is the season when I will pray more, be kinder, eat less and exercise more. I am sure that this time will be different from all of my past failed attempts at self-improvement and sacrifice for God.
The prophetess Anna sets a high standard to aim for. Just thinking about trying to follow her example of fasting and prayer day and night, without leaving the temple wears me out. At first glance, it would seem impossible to live like Anna. But,when I consider that my body is the temple of God, the task seems more achievable even while it remains difficult.
My body is the temple of God, so by caring for myself to the best of my ability, I am remaining in the temple, worshiping God day and night. God is always within me and when I treat my body well by eating healthy, refraining from junk food and sweets and spending some time exercising each day, I am offering prayer and fasting to God. It isn't easy, and I know there will be times when I fail to do my best, when my prayer of healthy living will lose it's luster, but God will take my weakness as well and use it for His glory.
St. Paul tells us to pray constantly. By offering my days to God and turning to Him again and again, through my successes and failures, I will be remaining in the temple like Anna. When I begin each day asking God for His love and guidance in all things and telling Him how much I love Him and desire to follow His will, I will be praying constantly. What a wonderful New Year's resolution this can be!
Lord, help me to be like Anna. Let me remain in the temple of Your love, worshiping you night and day with fasting and prayer to the best of my ability. Accept my successes and failures as my sacrifice of love for you. Amen.
Monday, December 28, 2009
I asked a friend to share his experiences with me. Had he ever heard the still, small voice of God, I wanted to know? He shared a beautiful story with me...
Marty was on retreat at a large shrine with several chapels inside. He had arose early in the day to walk outside and watch the sun rise. It was cold outside, so cold, that he went inside one of the chapels to warm up. He was all alone in the chapel, sitting in a back pew, not thinking any thoughts in particular, not really praying, just trying to get warm. Mass was going on in the upstairs chapel. A woman walked in with a crying baby, probably trying to keep from disturbing the worshipers in the chapel upstairs. She laid him down on the floor, right there in front of the altar, and changed his diaper. All the while that she was changing him, the baby continued to cry. Then she sat down in a pew a few rows in front of my friend, and began to nurse the baby. Suddenly the noise of the frantic baby was silenced. Marty looked at the tabernacle housing the Lord and he was struck by the realization that God had moved from the tabernacle, and was now in the baby. The peace of God had transferred to a real, living, crying, nursing baby in his mother's arms.
Isn't that just like God to enter the places where He is most needed? At that moment in that near-empty chapel, the baby and his mother needed the peace of God. Although Marty didn't realize it at the time, he also needed the peace of God. Even though he himself would never experience the contentment that comes to a mother as she nurses her infant through the release of hormones and the blessing of a sweet and contented baby in her arms, Marty felt that blessed peace just by being a passive witness to that holy scene between a mother and her child. It was a gift from God, an opportunity to feel His love and hear His voice in the silence of nourishing love between mother and child.
On that Christmas Day over 2000 years ago, the world needed Him in the body of a small baby. God entered the world as a baby and we were forever changed. He speaks to us all in those ordinary cries of want and need as well as in the contented sighs of comfort found in a baby who is well-fed and well-loved. Our God is in a precious, helpless baby, dependent on others to meet His needs. He depends on us to serve Him, through our service to others. I pray that I may listen for His voice and then serve Him well, in whichever way He might choose to speak to me.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
I have a friend from work who recently delivered her first baby early in Advent. I treasure the memory of the moment when she first told me that she was pregnant. Lissa’s office is right across the hall from mine, and we will often just lean back in our chairs and talk across the hall to one another. If something is really important, however, we get out of our chairs and walk over to each others offices to share our stories. Last spring was one such occasion. Lissa walked into my office, quietly asked if she could tell me something, and then pulled an ultrasound picture out from behind her back! She was already three months pregnant before she told anyone!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
One of my favorite blogs, Offer it Up, is written by Fr. James Kubicki who is the national director of the Apostleship of Prayer stationed in Milwaukee, WI. He recently made a trip to Fatima and wrote about it on his blog. While in Portugal, he visited the city of Santarem to see the Eucharistic Miracle. Fr. James said "We were able to climb behind the high altar and venerate at closehand the miracle of a Host that turned to flesh and blood."
I had never heard of this before, but found his story and picture of the Miracle so fascinating, that I had to learn more about it! When I showed this picture to my husband Paul, he said, "If more people saw this, they would have to believe." It is in the spirit of bringing others to believe, that I am sharing what I have learned.
"The story of the miracle centers on an early-13th-century woman with an unfaithful husband. Desperate to regain his faithfulness and save her marriage, she consulted a sorceress. The sorceress said she would cure the husband's infidelity for the price of a consecrated host (Eucharistic wafer). After much deliberation, the woman decided to commit the sacrilege.
The next time she attended Mass at the 12th-century Church of St. Stephen, she took the consecrated wafer from her mouth, wrapped it in a veil and headed quickly for the door. But before she had taken more than a few steps, the host began to bleed. It bled so much that concerned parishioners thought she had cut her hand and attempted to help, but she ran out of the church.
Back at home, she threw the bloody host in a trunk in her bedroom. Her husband did not come home until late, as usual. In the middle of the night, they were both awoken by a mysterious light emanating from the trunk. The woman confessed to her husband what she had done and they both knelt in repentance before the miracle. The next morning, the couple told the parish priest what had happened. The priest placed the miraculous host in a wax container and returned it to the Church of St. Stephen. Word spread quickly, and the townspeople hurried to the church to see the miracle.
The next time the priest opened the tabernacle that contained the miraculous host, another miracle occurred! The wax container was found broken into pieces, and the host was enclosed in a crystal pyx. This pyx was placed in a silver monstrance, where it can be seen today.
After an investigation, the Catholic Church approved the recognition of the miracle. The Church of St. Stephen was renamed the Church of the Holy Miracle, and it is one of Portugal's most-visited pilgrimage sites. St. Francis Xavier visited the Church of the Holy Miracle before setting off for missionary work in India.
The church was rebuilt in the 16th century." (From Sacred Destinations)
What I find to be most amazing about this story, is the fact that the woman and man to whom the miracle occurred didn't seem to be especially holy, in fact extramarital affairs and sorcery aren't usually the stuff of holiness, are they? I love that God will use anybody in any situation, to draw others to Himself. We truly have a beautiful God of surprises!
This world can be an awfully lonely place sometimes, can't it? It takes a bit of courage and bravery to step out of our insecurity and reach out to others, but when we do, we often find that by reaching out to befriend another, we ourselves, are greatly enriched. In this wide world of bloggers, there are two women who have reached out to me again and again. I am blessed by their friendship and my heart is warmed by the recent awards they have sent my way. I thank Karinann for her Circle of Friends Award, and Judy for her Daily Blessings Award.
I offer praise to God for these lovely friends and for all of the kind visitors who frequent my blog. Before I began blogging, I had complained to my spiritual director that I had felt so alone in my faith without kindred spirits to share my values and my love for the Lord. Writing this blog has changed all of that. I have learned that this world is full of kindred spirits, fellow blog-writers who have a deep love for Jesus and a passion for sharing that love with others through the written word. My heart overflows with the love that I hold for each of you.
I offer praise to God for long-time friends and family members who live nearby and to whom I can turn whenever I long to share a story, a laugh or a tearful embrace. He has chosen to fill my cup to overflowing with goodness and joy.
I offer praise to God for the miracle of the Incarnation and the joy with which Christians celebrate it each year at Christmas.
Praise for her "yes" to new life within
The life that was meant to free us from sin
Praise for safe journeys through a difficult plight
Praise for His birth on that holy night
Praise for the warmth of hay and swaddling clothes
Praise for songs of angels that to heaven arose
Praise for stars to lead the way
Praise for His re-birth in our hearts each day
(Thanks to Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart for the MEME)
Thursday, December 24, 2009
dark sky and darker hearts
despair without hope for redemption
lands in the soil
of a tender heart and
sprouts new life
baby suckles in the cold night
delighting angels above
eyes look to the heavens
Rejoice! Hope is reborn!
"He shall be peace." Micah 5:4a
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
In these final days of Advent waiting,
I wonder how you will come to me, Lord.
What will you look like?
How will I know you?
My heart grows impatient,
although I’m not sure what it is so impatient for.
A veil of darkness covers you; I can’t see you.
But, I am sure that when I do,
this wait will prove to have been worth it.
Come to me soon, God, show Yourself to me.
Lift the veil that hides Your mystery.
Bring me Your light, Your love.
Radiate around me and within me.
Fill me with joy.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Julian of Norwich
I found a new blog this morning and spent far too much time perusing the lovely words which were written there. I was quite easily lost. Suddenly, a glace at the clock warned me that time was running out and I had better get a move on if I wanted to get the kids to school on time.
As I stood at the mirror applying the face paint and scowling at the wrinkles, my mind anxiously ran through the day to come...
I have been struggling to feel the presence of God in these last few days. I've been so busy and so stressed. My prayer has been limited and dry. And today, no Mass for me. The time had been bumped back for an all-school Mass as it is the last day of school before Christmas, and it is a work day for me. Unfortunately, it will not be a normal work day. I will go to work earlier than usual today to pick up a coworker and we will drive for an hour (in the snow) to attend the funeral of our friend's husband. I wonder why I'm bothering with the mascara as it will most likely be running down my face in an ugly mess at the funeral. I grimace as I pull my high heels onto my feet. Any other day I would be wearing pants and boots in the snow. After the funeral my coworker and I will drive an hour back to work (they are predicting an all day snow), where the clinic will be exceptionally busy with clients who are anxious to pick up their WIC vouchers before the clinic closes for the Christmas holiday. I was feeling the knot in my stomach tighten at the thought of the stress and sadness that is lying in wait for me.
Then, I heard the sound of someone pushing a shovel outside the window. I hadn't heard any of the kids go outside. In fact, it seemed unusually quiet on the home front. Our early morning hours are usually fraught with rushing, fighting and cries of "I can't find my uniform!" I looked out the back door to see Justin hard at work. The same Justin whom I complained about in yesterday's re-post.
Ah, it was another moment of grace. God is with me. He shows his love for me through my son who sees a task that needs to be done and attends to it without being told. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders a bit. All is well.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Witness to Grace
It was a typical morning in our household. It began with the daily frantic rush to get five kids dressed, breakfast eaten and out the door by 6:45 so we would be on time for daily Mass before school and work. I stood at the door as usual waiting for my children to make their way out the door so I could ensure that everything was locked up and secure before we left. I grimaced at the snow still piled up at the edges of the porch and along the sides of the path. I admit that I have a bit of my father in me, and I like a clean sidewalk after a snowfall. I hate thinking about tracking snow and salt in the house, and I worry about the mailman slipping as he climbs our front steps to deliver our mail. I had asked my 13 year old, Justin, who usually loves to shovel and takes it upon himself to chip away the ice without being asked, to do a better job cleaning the snow off the sidewalks the day before, to which he promptly ignored my request. Now as we were in a hurry to leave and I noticed the job was undone, I offered a snappy criticism to my son who immediately took offense at my words.
As we raced down the city streets, one eye on the clock, the other on the traffic, I could feel the beginnings of a bad day grabbing hold of my spirit. Once we arrived at church, two of the boys were arguing, my daughter, Mary, was crying about her backpack, my son, Joe, was complaining once again about why we have to attend daily Mass, and Justin was shooting me dirty looks.
I always feel that the daily Mass helps me get my day off to a good start and keeps my focus on Jesus. But today, it didn’t seem to be helping. The kids were squirming and whispering and I felt irritated rather than peaceful. Justin always has to leave Mass a few minutes early to get to his cadet post on time, and usually gives me a hug and kiss goodbye as he leaves. Not today. He left without so much as a glance in my direction. I felt the tears begin to sting my eyes, as the teenage years seemed to loom forever in the future. I was failing to feel any grace in this moment. What I was really feeling was the disgrace of self-pity. I was wondering why do I bother to drag the kids to daily Mass when they don’t appreciate it and would probably rather not be there. Why don’t I just let everyone sleep for another half hour and avoid this daily struggle? Why bother?
Then in the corner of my eye, I noticed someone new in church, someone who wasn’t part of the “regular” morning crowd of elderly people. He stood out with his long straggly hair. While I was waiting for my daughter to zip her jacket and grab her backpack, I saw this stranger talking to the priest. I heard Father give a hearty “yes!” and I watched the two of them walk together to the confessional. This was a moment of grace for that man, for the priest, and also for me, the witness. At the sight of this repentant sinner, this lost sheep, this prodigal son returning to his home, the church, my heart expanded in love. It made all of my petty complaints of this early morning feel so shallow and meaningless. My mind returned to the words of this morning’s first reading from Isaiah 41, “Fear not, I will help you. The hand of the Lord has done this; the Holy One of Israel has created it.” And I did feel helped. I could see the hand of the Lord on this man and on me. I knew I had nothing to fear, that my day would turn out all right and my teenagers would turn out all right because the hand of the Lord will see to it, and he will help us.
I went home to quickly clear the sidewalks before work with a new perspective. I know that no matter what I encounter, even icy sidewalks and rebellious teenagers, that God will help me, and I am grateful. My life is surrounded by grace, and I am simply a witness.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Sometimes praise comes hard. This is a hard praise.
Yesterday, I received the news that one of my friends at work has suffered the loss of her husband this past Thursday. Suicide. My friend, along with her 18-year-old son and her 20-year-old daughter, found him dead inside their home. Their love couldn't save him. My friend is a sweet, strong and loving person. She is always thinking of others and doing for others. She has great love. I haven't been a very good friend to her. I didn't know that her family was suffering so much. I never reached out to her to ask about her life. Her office was down the hall from mine, and I didn't take the time to walk down the hall and get to know her better. It would have been so easy for me, but I didn't do it. Would showing my love for her by spending more time with her have changed anything in her life? I don't know. But knowing that we are loved has to help. I do love my friend. Today, I am hurting for her. I want to do more for her and I resolve to love her more from now on.
We were supposed to have our office Christmas party yesterday, but none of us felt like celebrating so we canceled it. I went to a small adoration chapel to spend some time with the Lord. I was in the front row, so close to the Monstrance that I could almost touch it. Was my mind playing tricks on me, allowing me to see what I was longing to see? The light cast a shadow on the the Host, and it looked as if I could see the outline of a person in the wafer. I decided it was Jesus. Jesus showed himself to me in the form of a man in the Host yesterday. I always have believed that He is truly present there, but to "see" Him, when I really needed Him was a great comfort.
I love the silence of adoration and am always hoping that I will "hear" Him speak to me. I never feel as though I do. But yesterday, I was sure I did. What I heard Him say was "Love more. Let it hurt."
Isn't that exactly what Jesus did? He loved us more and more until He hurt with the pain of crucifixion. Would it really be so hard for me to spend more time with others, showing my love in a real and tangible way, instead of hiding within myself, nursing my own wounds? I believe that this is what Jesus was telling me to do during my time with Him in adoration.
Jesus, I praise you because you "loved more". Help me to also "love more". Let me love others until it hurts. Amen.
(Thanks to Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart for this MEME.)
Friday, December 18, 2009
1. When my son Joe needed his booster immunizations a few years ago, I took him to the doctor for the dirty deed and our insurance didn’t cover the preventive health measure. Those shots in my son’s arm cost me $200! Later, I learned that the health department would have immunized my son for free! I was quite sick about it. I made sure when my two oldest sons needed immunizations for high school, to take them to the health department and save myself some moula. I also make it a point to tell all of the clients I serve at the WIC Clinic that they should seek immunization care from the health department as well. So,last October, when my son Jack needed to see the doctor for his struggles with Attention Deficit, our new pediatrician (who is quite wonderful by the way, he himself is the father of nine children!), offered to take care of the immunizations that Jack was currently in need of. Feeling stressed by all of Jack’s difficulties in school and the need for medication to help alleviate some of his struggles, I quickly agreed. “Take care of it all!” I said. Yesterday, the bill arrived in the mail. Oops! I forgot my own much given advice to go to the health department for those shots! Now, I’m $300 in debt to the doctor and sicker than sick about it! I wish I lived in Canada!
2. The other morning I was backing out of the garage with Joe, Jack and Mary in the van, on our way to daily Mass and then to school. Justin leaves the house at the same time we do, only he walks about 5 blocks to catch the bus that takes him to high school. It’s still dark outside when we leave, and as I was just starting to inch the van back, I heard Justin screaming. Did I run him over, I wondered? No, he was standing next to the van in the garage and screaming because there was a dead possum in the alley. Possums have got to be one of the ugliest creatures that God ever made, along with cockroaches and mosquitoes; I often question God as to what good purpose these critters actually serve. I sent Paul an email at work telling him that I would love him forever if that possum would be removed from the alley by the time I returned home from work that night. It was. I love my husband.
3. I am a mother who stresses out her children by making them leave the house at 6:45 AM daily, so that we can attend 7:00 Mass each day. Joe, the 13-year-old, struggles with this the most. He wants to grab every last minute of sleep that he can get and then frantically runs around looking for his school uniform that he failed to set out the night before and then tries to gulp down some breakfast as we run out the door (he cadets and has to leave Mass before communion, so he’s off the hook for fasting one hour). This past Tuesday, he was running way behind and asked me if he could eat his breakfast in the van while we were driving. I agreed. There he was with his bowl of cereal and milk in the front passenger seat, eating all the way to church. When we arrived, he was still eating. He asked if he could finish and then join us when he was done. He’s a growing boy; he needs to eat, so I agreed again. I handed him the car keys and asked him to lock the van when he was through. Jack and Mary and I headed into church and immersed ourselves in the morning Mass and were soon joined briefly by Joe until he left following the homily. I didn’t give those car keys another thought until we were ready to go. They weren’t in my purse, they weren’t in my pockets and they weren’t on the pew. OH NO!!!!! I trucked over to the school to find Joe at his cadet post. “I left them on the car seat,” he said. Have you ever seen a woman run in clogs on the ice? It is not an easy trick, let me tell you! There, in the church parking lot, were the car keys on the driver’s seat, van doors unlocked. Why didn’t I just put a sign on the van that said, “Come and take me!” A big thank you to God that nobody did!
4. I was blessed to receive a sweet phone call this week from my wonderful friend Danette’s wonderful daughter Lisa-Marie. Lisa-Marie will be confirmed this April and she asked me to be her sponsor! What a thrill! I am so very honored!
5. My son Justin invited me on a date this past week! He has been struggling in English class and his teacher offered him a chance at extra credit if he would attend the school’s production of “A Christmas Carol” and then write a report on the main idea of the play. Justin could have asked any girl to go with him, but he didn’t. He asked me! I was so delighted to escort my 14-year-old son to his school play and enjoyed our night out very much!
6. Like most bloggers, I am addicted to the Internet. I worry that this addiction causes me to neglect my family, and my husband often reinforces this worry for me by complaining about the amount of time I sit at the computer. So this week, my family and I attended an Advent Reconciliation Service. I confessed my sin of neglect for my families needs, secretly hoping my penance would be to unplug the computer for a week or more so I could get some work done around the house. No luck. He told me to stop stewing and instead I should praise God for the savvy and know-how to write a blog. I guess that kitchen floor will just stay dirty for a little while longer.
7. This is the time of year for lots of Christmas hoopla combined with end of semester exams. My son John had a guitar recital this week for his final guitar grade. I’ve never been to a guitar recital before. It was very nice! John played “Away In a Manger.” Mary also had her class Christmas program. She begged and pleaded for a Santa dress and I finally gave in. I’m glad I did because it was super-cute on her and she sang her part so well! But I must confess that I am very grateful that the Christmas programs and parties are over so I can try to get back to my “Waiting in Peaceful Advent Silence” agenda. (What’s that? If I’m being honest, it’s really a back to “Busy Final Preparations for Christmas” agenda! Ugh!)
And now, I will do my best to give my household my undivided attention until Christmas! I pray that you will all be able to do the same for your families.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
My friend Karinann at Daughter of the King participates in a very special annual event in her prayer group. Each year, the participants draw a saint’s name from an envelope and that saint will be their personal patron saint for the upcoming year. The idea is not that the individual chooses the saint, but rather, it is the saint who chooses the individual. Karinann tells me that her group began this event after learning that St. Faustina’s convent did this same procedure each year.
What a lovely idea! And lovelier still, at the end of the annual drawing, there were still a few saint’s names left in the envelope so Karinann generously offered to share her saints with the blogging community. If she could see through cyberspace, Karinann would have seen me wildly waving my arms crying “me too, me too! I want a personal saint!” Since I know she couldn’t see me behaving so badly (thank the good Lord for that!), I sent her a message via her blog politely asking her if she would please share one of her saints with me. Karinann, being the sweet and wonderful person that she is, kindly obliged.
St. Luke chose me.
Now at first, I must admit, I felt a little twinge of regret at that news. I don’t know anything about St. Luke. I’ve never prayed to him before. He’s not one of my “favorite saints”. Why couldn’t I get St. Mary Magdalene or St. Jane de Chantal or maybe St. Gianna Molla? I was hoping for someone that I knew I would share some type of commonality with. How was I going to spend a whole year with St. Luke? What a complainer I am!
But then, I reread the email that Karinann had sent me. She said “The saint that has chosen to companion you during this upcoming year is St Luke. The first thing I thought of when I saw who it was was that St Luke was probably very close to Our Lady. His Gospel tells more about her than any of the other three. Given your recent consecration, I thought this was fitting. I pray you and this great saint enjoy getting to know each other in the New Year.” Maybe she really did see me jumping and waving my arms in cyberspace, because her message really addressed the concerns that I was having. It was as if she knew that I would be disappointed in the saint who had chosen me and she knew I would need some type of justification. I love her justification.
So, I decided that the first thing I needed to do was to learn more about St. Luke. It didn’t take me long to learn that there are many wonderful things about St. Luke that are very fitting to my life. A quick visit to Catholic Online and I was better informed about this holy man.
It is well known that St. Luke was a physician. Considering that I have recently been suffering through a bout of depression with all of the physical ailments that entails such as headaches, stomach aches, body aches, insomnia and fatigue, a physician is just what I need to assist with my healing. How wise St. Luke must be to choose to come to me at this particular time in my life.
Luke is a writer of one of the four Gospels. The key word for me here is writer. I love to write but I often struggle because I wonder if my writing is for God or for myself. I question my motives and my ability to spread the word of God. Who better than a Gospel writer to guide me and keep my writing focused on the only One who matters, God Himself?
Now in Luke’s Gospel he tells of six miracles and 18 parables that are not found in the other three Gospels. He focuses on the poor and social justice issues. His is the only Gospel to tell the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man, and his beatitudes state, “blessed are the poor”, not “blessed are the poor in spirit”. As a WIC Nutritionist who spends her days with the poor, I find it very comforting that I will spend 2010 under the guidance of a saint who has a deep love and understanding of the poor.
Luke’s Gospel includes all five of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary. The other Gospels only share the Mystery of the Nativity. St. Luke's Gospel also shares the story of the Incarnation of Christ at the Nativity, but he tells so much more about the life of Jesus and Mary than the other three Gospel narratives. It is only Luke who tells the story of the Annunciation and Mary's Fiat, the Visitation with Mary's charity toward others, the Presentation in which we see Mary's obedience to God and the Finding in the Temple which shows Mary's motherly humanity in her worry for her Son. Mary’s beautiful Magnificat Prayer is in Luke, as well as the splendid words of the first half of the Hail Mary Prayer. Karinann was so right! Luke has a special relationship with the Holy Mother and he will be a great role model for me as I continue to deepen my relationship with Mary.
Finally, Luke’s is the only Gospel that tells the story of the Prodigal Son and my personal favorite, the story of the repentant woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears at a dinner party. In my never-ending difficulty with a delicate conscience and my struggles to accept the forgiveness of God and His love for me, Luke may just be the saint who can show me the path to God’s unconditional love.
St. Luke is a healer who uses his wonderful words to share The Word with the world, and heal us all. He has a love for the poor and for women, especially the most wonderful woman of all, the Blessed Mother. He shows us the forgiveness and eternal love of the Father. What wonderful qualities!
Now here is the thing about St. Luke that really amazes me. I had to research this man to find out who he was, but he already knew me. He chose me. Did God, in His great and eternal wisdom, whisper into St. Luke's heart and tell him to look after me? Did that one word from God flood St. Luke's heart with immediate love for me? I look forward to 2010 with great anticipation, as the year when I will not only develop a relationship with St. Luke, but also will seal it with deep love and respect for him that will last long beyond 2010.
What is it about the song of the cardinal that always stops me in my tracks? His voice, full of praise for God, speaks to me. No matter what I may be doing, I must stop and look for that royal red bird that calls out so strong and clear.
Sometimes he's found on an electric wire, his bright red feathers standing out against the pale blue sky. Other times, he is hidden in the branches of the tree and I can barely detect his presence but for his loud call that gives his hiding place away.
It's as if hearing him isn't enough. I must see him as well. Once I've rested my eyes upon his regal sight, with that crown of feathers pointing up to heaven, I can continue again with my busyness. Now I'm content to listen to his voice calling out songs of praise to God, and my heart sings along.
Monday, December 14, 2009
That evening we gathered again at church to pray at a Taize Prayer Service. During that hour of beautiful chanted hymns by candlelight, our group of 15 teens and several other family members were blessed by peaceful Taize chant and prayerful silence. As I sat in front of the Holy Family Icon, I prayed for my own family. I asked God to bless us with our own special form of holiness and I felt joy well up inside of me as I focused on my blessings, knowing that God heard my prayer and would help us to model our lives on that of the Holy Family.
As we left the church to walk over to the parish center, flakes of pure, white snow were silently falling from the night sky. I felt it was a gift from heaven, God’s own way of silently rejoicing.
Upon entering the parish center, our group decorated Christmas cookies that I had baked earlier in the week. My sixteen-year-old son, John, spontaneously arose from his chair, embraced me, and said, “I love you, Mom!” Our youth minister, standing nearby, became teary-eyed at that sight. She spoke of how her four-year-old son is very open about showing affection and she only hopes that he will continue to be affectionate well into his teen years. I cannot remember any time when I had ever felt so proud. That moment was followed by another beautiful sight, as I saw my daughter Mary climb into 14-year-old Justin’s lap to snuggle during a Christmas movie.
I know that God answered my prayer that night, and in an immediate way. My children love Paul and I, and they love each other, and there is nothing holier than that! I often ponder the mystery of how God could come to bless me with five wonderful children and a loving spouse when I so often let Him down with sin. I catch myself in mistakes over and over again, especially mistakes of harshness towards my children, and coldness towards my husband, and yet, they keep showering me with nothing but love and warmth. My family is a reflection of God’s love for me through their generous gifts of loving words and actions that they share so frequently and openly. It is a Joyful Mystery and all I can do in response is rejoice! Gaudete!
cold dark blackness of night
brilliantly framed by
bright sunrise and sunset
fire in the sky burns radiant and warm
to color our day with flames of
pink, yellow and purple
that blend into brilliant, endless blue
God frames our day with love
from the beginning through the end
and seals it in the colors of the sky
the Master Craftsman
creates the art of life
and surrounds it
with an intensely vivid frame
How I love living
in His Divine Masterpiece!
(The image is by Mike Fisk. In 2007 a sailboat was stranded in the ice of Lake Michigan off the shores of Milwaukee. This photograph captured the scene so beautifully!)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
“A man with two sons told the older boy, ‘Son, go out and work on the farm today.’ ‘I won’t,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father told the youngest, ‘You go!’ and he said, ‘Yes, sir, I will.’ But he didn’t. Which of the two was obeying his father?” Matthew 21:28-31
Sometimes we try to shut out the word of God and His will for us while we enjoy the indulgence of worldly pleasures. We pray with St. Augustine, “Lord, make me chaste, just not yet!” In this season of silent waiting, sometimes it is God who patiently waits for us to accept His will for our life.
Thirteen years ago I was pregnant with my third son in three years. I had just quit my job to stay home with the babies, when my husband lost his job. Frantically worried...keep reading...
This morning eight year old Mary came downstairs early in the morning and climbed into bed with Paul and I to snuggle. I told her that today is the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe and asked her if she knew the story.
She began to tell me about the peasant, Juan Diego and how he had a vision of Mary but nobody believed him. Then, after he picked the roses that were growing in December and carefully placed them in his tilma, an even greater miracle appeared. A perfect image of Mary remained on his tilma and it still is perfect today. After that, everyone believed him. We discussed the fact that one of the most beautiful aspects of her appearance to Juan Diego was that he was a peasant, an ordinary person, just like us. For us that means that Mary is here for all of the little, simple, ordinary people living their every day lives. She is here for me and for you.
We talked some more about how Our Lady of Guadalupe appeared as a pregnant woman when Juan Diego saw her and that today she is the protector of all unborn babies. Mary wondered why people can kill sweet little babies. Then she broke my heart by telling me something that I didn't know. Last October as our family stood on the busy highway holding pro-life signs for "Respect Life Sunday", a woman drove past Mary and called out "I kill babies all the time, freaks!" Mary held that hurt inside for two months without ever telling me about it. We decided that we don't want to dwell on our hurts or on people who are mean, we want to focus on our blessings.
That led us to a discussion of all of the miraculous things that God has done and continues to do that so many people take for granted. We don't want to take miracles for granted. Mary and I choose to praise God for each and every miracle he sends us, each and every day. Starting now, and here is the beginning of our list...
Praise God for the miraculous workings of the human body.
Praise God for the miraculous orbit of the planets and moon.
Praise God for the miraculous rising and setting of the sun each day.
Praise God for the miracle of grass growing in the summer.
Praise God for the miracle of rain pouring from the sky.
Praise God for the miracle of love.
Praise God for the miracle of Christ within us.
Praise God for the miraculous changing of bread and wine into the very Body and Blood of Jesus within the beautiful hands of the priest at every Mass.
Praise God for the shape of angels appearing in our bowl of cereal at breakfast. (Is it a miracle or did Mary shape it herself? She won't say...)
Happy Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe!
(Join this MEME at Jennifer's My Chocolate Heart)
Friday, December 11, 2009
While on my knees
in adoration of the Blessed Lord
I heard the winter winds
around the chapel.
They whistled and howled and
did their best to come inside
through any slight
crack in the stained glass windows,
but to no avail.
The wind stayed out.
Inside the chapel there was nothing
but peaceful bliss with the Lord.
I want to be like that adoration chapel.
Let the vicious winds of life
swirl all around me.
Nothing will ever come inside to disturb
my inner peace
because the Lord is there
and with Him,
all is bliss.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
"Anyone who reads Anne's excellent blog will be aware (via her kind comments and link) that there is a special site on the internet for vocations to the priesthood run by a group of teenagers and includes Anne's son John(Writings of a Boy Discerning God's Call)as the Prayer & Reflection Editor. How and why did it start? I bumped into the co-founder, Dario, in cyberspace. I live in England and he in Hawaii, but we soon discovered we had a lot in common. Although we are just 16, we first felt called to become priests when we were 12! As we approach the site's first birthday, we are both astounded by the support we have been given and the direction the site has taken. Initially Dario and I just wanted a simple site in which we both told our stories that it is OK to be a teen and thinking about being a priest. That was it - make the point and then sit back! But the Lord seems to have had other plans. Other discerners wanted to add their own stories - from Australia to the USA and England to South Africa. We added more and more content and most recently we started a forum. Our reviewers include several vocations directors, one of whom said 'What a fantastic initiative'! I like to think that it works alongside the vocations sites run by adults, but I still think teens can witness best to other teens.
The internet is a fabulous place to position a vocations site. Young people may be too scared to ask their parents or priests for advice - here you can glean whatever information you need without fear; you can make up your mind, pray and reflect, ask advice from others without having to face embarrassment. But it is a risky place. As editors and webmaster, we don't know what we are doing - literally! Yes, I know the technical stuff, and yes we can get help for the pages from priests (to ensure we are orthodox), and we have the advantage of being young enough not to be scared of technology. When I say 'we don't know what we are doing', I'm thinking of a real act of faith. We post our material, but we don't know what results it will bring in or what seeds may be sown. We certainly don't dare to claim that we may have planted a vocation in someone's heart who happens to browse our pages in India or France - only God does that. At best, we cultivate and then leave the rest to Him. At harvest time, if anyone has discovered their vocation in life (to be a priest, a parent, a teacher etc) then God alone is glorified.
What keeps me going on this project? First, an unassailable sense that however much I protest that I would prefer a different vocation and that I find celibacy a difficult option, I cannot escape the calling to priesthood, nor the fact that Jesus trusts me, a most unworthy rascal, to continue His mission in the priesthood. Secondly, just above my computer, I have a sign which reads 'One sows... another reaps'. (John 4:37). We may never know the good we have done especially on the internet. It doesn't matter. Sow in faith and love and God and His Kingdom will reap. So every page I create, every link I pursue, each and every email I tackle, become my personal 'Credo'.
As we celebrate our birthday, could I ask you to pray for us, for all who visit our web site, that God will touch hearts and minds with a generous spirit?"
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
We were anticipating a foot and a half of snow in our neck of the woods today. The excitement of the children as they watched for word of school closings was contagious. But, the bulk of the snow stayed to the west of us, and we got lots of snow mixed with rain-heavy slush! And the kids went to school. But me...I have a day off of work, a day to myself! And the snow still falls in fat flakes from the overcast sky. It's beautiful. And treacherous. And it revived my soul from the darkness of self-centered pity and brought me to think of others. And I am grateful.
I am grateful that my family was able to attend Mass for the Holy Day of the Immaculate Conception last night as the snow was driving down hard. A woman we didn't know walked into church and let out a sigh of relief that she had arrived safely. She asked Paul and I if we could give her a ride home after Mass, as she had taken the bus to church. We were glad to help and our simple act of service removed a splinter from the cross she bore.
I am grateful that I awoke early today, before husband and children, and went outside to shovel the slush from the walks and driveways, not only clearing those of my own house, but also those of the houses of my elderly neighbors on either side. My arms and back ache like His arms and back must have ached from the weight of the wood. The blisters and callouses that cover the palms of my hands from the heavy load I bore in each lift of the shovel reminds me of the wounds in His hands. The hour I spent shoveling was an hour of prayer and love for others, like the love He gave in taking our nails.
I am grateful that daily Mass was still held today. There I was in the empty church, alone. Right before Mass was to begin, I was joined by two others who braved the elements. Father Dave arrived and said Mass for the three of us. Regardless of the obstacles that the weather had caused, there were four people gathered at Mass to worship the Lord, just like the small group that gathered at the foot of the cross and would not leave Him in His hour of need regardless of the obstacles of hatred that surrounded them.
As I spend the remainder of my day in my warm house, baking cookies for our parish youth group, this too will remind me of His love. He feeds our hungry souls with His very body. I will bake to feed the hungry souls of our youth who yearn to know Him, even if they aren't aware of it yet. The love I serve them in the cookies will draw their hearts to His love, will bring them closer to Him.
Today I am grateful for slush. I am grateful to be of service to others. I am grateful to have a heart that loves. Without Him and the love he bore for all of us on His cross, none of this would be possible, my heart would remain cold and bitter. But it is through His love that weather related difficulties are transformed into joyous service.
Thank you Lord, for slush, and thank you for Your Love on the Cross.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Little Crown of The Blessed Virgin Mary
St. Louis de Montfort
Since my day of Consecration to Jesus through Mary last October, praying the Little Crown of the Blessed Virgin Mary has become a daily joy for me, and this line in particular always makes me smile. It’s repeated 12 times within the Crown, after each Hail Mary, so that is 12 times that a smile crosses my face each day (at least!). Considering all of the wonderful attributes of Our Blessed Lady and all of the wonders she works on our behalf, I think that a thousand times is far too few. Maybe the number should be changed to a billion times! Today, on the Feast of her Immaculate Conception, I too, rejoice at least a thousand times because I am so terribly blessed to have such a Pure and Holy Mother loving me and setting such a wonderful example of holiness for me.
Rejoice, O daughter of the Virgin Mary; rejoice a thousand times!
Monday, December 7, 2009
I'm always looking for the presence of Christ within others, especially within the clients I serve at the WIC Clinic. I'll never forget the day when He made it so easy to see Him, I didn't have to look hard at all. He showed His presence to me through the wonderful names of two darling children...
I pulled a chart from the box and glanced at the name of the client. It read "Jesus". Thinking the family was of Hispanic background, I pronounced the name as "Hey-zeus". The child's mother stood up and said "We're not Hispanic, his name is "Jesus"! Little Jesus was a sweet little two year old boy who was more interested in playing with my computer than with the basket of toys that I keep in my office to entertain the little ones. When Jesus and him mom left my office after our visit, I still had a smile on my face as I took the next chart.
This time, to my great surprise, the client was a precious six-month-old baby girl named "Heaven". I saw Jesus and Heaven all on the same day! I am unbelievably blessed and can't wait for the day when I will see the real Jesus and the real Heaven for all of eternity instead of lovely namesakes for a few short minutes.
This little sign of future joy was all it took to turn an ordinary day into a hope-filled day. Have you ever had a little sign like this to keep you going and move you forward in this exile here on earth?
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
in blackest darkness
in shivering cold
in snow-white covered peace
in utter silence
a lit candle
a warm home
a sleeping babe
Praise God for the expectant waiting of Advent leading to Christmas joy!
Praise God for the expectant waiting of pregnancy leading to the birth of a sweet, precious baby!
Praise God for Cali Lynn born December 4th, the beautiful daughter of my dear friend and coworker, Melissa and her husband, Adam. Nothing in this world can compare to the new life of a precious infant! I praise God for a nursing babe in her mother's arms dripping sweet milk from the corner of her mouth, for warm, pink sleeper pajamas, for the sounds of rattles and baby coos, for the wonderful smell of baby lotions and powders, and the soft feel of tendrils of hair at the nape of a baby neck!
Praise God for the gift of babies! Praise God for the greatest gift of all, the sweet baby Jesus, coming to us after our annual gestation of Advent waiting!
(Thanks to Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart for this weekly Praise! MEME)
It's hard to believe that it is the first Saturday of December already! Where did November go? Once again I'm joining in Elizabeth Esther's Saturday Evening Blog Post where bloggers from all over cyberspace share their favorite post from the previous month. This month I choose to share the post from last week: Fear. Through the comments I received on this post, I have learned that fear is a common denominator for lots of people. I also know that the love of God is the only remedy that can drive that fear from our souls.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Holy Heavenly Spirit,
You watch me through the window of my soul.
You see all of my actions; you hear all of my prayers.
You feel all of my joys and sorrows.
Not one breath escapes my mouth without your awareness of it.
When the night grows dark,
You lift the curtain and cast a glow of light around me
so that I continue to be visible to You and to others
through the window of my soul.
You want me to be seen,
so that all will recognize your Spirit
that lives within me, and they too,
will be warmed and brightened
by the radiant love that comes from You.
I praise You, Holy Spirit,
for lifting the curtain
and revealing Yourself through me
in the window.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
sitting lake side
feeling dead within
ripples grow and swell
fish rises, slips through surface
birthed by the waters into air
what pulls the fish
out of the depths of water
is unknown to me;
what draws me out
from the depths of darkness
is crystal clear
the warmth of friendship,
the presence of Christ
in the other,
a warm smile,
a gentle touch,
a listening ear,
a kind remark,
the hope of a love
that will last
suddenly alive again
everything fresh and bright
vibrant blue skies
footsteps on rocks
clean, cold air
everything has new meaning
like the flying fish
I, too, am flying
birthed by the warmth of friendship
I slip through the surface of darkness
into the light of the Spirit
it is my birth day
I am born again
Monday, November 30, 2009
My husband is afraid. Last week Paul checked out a brand-new book from the library and decided he would bring it to work to read during his break. He came home from work that day and asked me if I had seen his book. "No, you took it to work with you." I replied. The next day he returned from work triumphant. He had found his book...on the side of the road. It seems he had set it on top of his car as he unlocked the door, and forgot all about it. He found it on the side of the road, rain-soaked, muddy and with a broken binding. It seems that sturdy book took a ten mile ride on top of Paul's car before it skidded off to the ditch.
Now, Paul is afraid to return the book to the library because he worries that the librarian will yell at him and cause him to blush, and possibly cry. (Truthfully, our family has a very bad reputation at our public library. We are much despised for returning items late and in poor condition. I'll never forget the time little Justin broke a library CD in half and then stuck it in our computer to see what would happen. I'll tell you what happened. A $65.00 fine is what happened.) So, Paul is justified in his fear. Still, he can't get around it. He has to face up to his fear and return the book, confess his crime and pay retribution.
I'm afraid, too. I'm afraid of how reckless my children are. I'm afraid when Jack tells me that while I was at work, Joe set up a mattress at the top of the stairs and they all slid down to the bottom on it, again and again. I'm afraid when Justin shows me a video he made of himself attempting to jump over the garbage can on his scooter and I hear the sound of Mary laughing as she watches Justin fall and practically break his neck.
Fear is irrational. I'm afraid of aging. I'm afraid that as I turn 44 years old, my entire body will begin to fall apart, and my mental capacities will quickly diminish.
But I know better than to be afraid. I just need to remind myself of the lovely words from 1 John and the tremendous Lover who is the only One whose Love can remove all of my unfounded fears and cast them far, far away from me...
“There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out all fear.”
1 John 4:18
I live inside of fear.
I cower under its shadow.
I carry it with me wherever I go.
But Your love is stronger than my fear.
You shower it down from the heavens
In generous rainfall
That enriches my soul.
You wash the fear
Into the stream
And carry it far away from me.
I am left with the glow
Of peaceful love
Finding it in all people
All things and
Fear trembles and runs in your presence.
Thank You Lord, for Your perfect love. Amen.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
My heart is like the manger straw at Bethlehem. It’s cluttered, unkempt and dusty.
Yet, You chose to be born in my lowly heart just as You were born in a lowly manger.
You know that humble, unworthy surroundings are the perfect holding place for Your love to grow. What’s more, Your beautiful love transforms cluttered hearts and filthy mangers so that they become shining temples of glory.
This Advent, I will patiently wait for You to renew my cluttered heart with the birth of Your abiding presence and love. Amen.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Every year it’s the same story when Advent comes around…Advent, which means, “come”. The ideals that our family holds up, the things we most want to come into our lives are peace, harmony and joy. We always start with the best intentions. We create a homemade Advent wreath, cutting fresh sprigs of cedar from our trees in the backyard and fill a glass pie dish with the greens and four candles, violet and pink. We lovingly place the wreath at the center of our kitchen table. Each evening as part of our dinner prayer, the children take turns lighting a candle and reading a prayer about building the stable in our hearts for Jesus. Doesn’t that sound beautiful? No greedy dreams of Christmas wishes for toys and gadgets. No secular Christmas music blaring from our radio. No loading up on Christmas treats and Christmas decorations before the season actually arrives. Just peace, harmony and joy around our Advent kitchen table...read more...
"You have turned for me my mourning into dancing" Psalm 30:11
Our God is a God of balance. He will never leave us in eternal sorrow or in eternal joy while our footsteps walk the soil of the land. No matter what we feel or have now, it is certain that He will give us an opposite to keep us balanced and detached from extremes. Praise for the Balance of God!
Praise for nights of darkness balanced by mornings of pink and blue sunrise.
Praise for frosty mornings balanced by the warmth of a woolen coat.
Praise for the pain of hunger balanced by a full, nourishing meal.
Praise for the dignity of work balanced by peaceful rest.
Praise for tears of sadness balanced by the sound of laughter.
Praise for empty loneliness balanced by the embrace of love.
Praise for songs of jubilation balanced by silent prayer.
For all of this and so much more, I praise You my glorious God, for you are always with me, loving me with your gifts of balance. Amen.
(Thanks to Jennifer at My Chocolate Heart for the Praise MEME.)
Friday, November 27, 2009
Now that my boys are teenagers, I am keenly aware of what an embarrassment I am to them. These are the years where I am supposed to become invisible, but I find that task to be impossible. I can manage it when I am cross and irritable; then it’s easy to be silent and unnoticeable, in fact, invisibility is what I most desire at those times.
But when I’m happy and joyful, becoming invisible is impossible. My entire being wants to passionately cry out with love and joy to you. I want to let my happiness show in singing, dancing, shouting and laughter. I want everyone to join in my joy. How can I help but sing along with the radio when such a fun, old-fashioned folk song like “La Cucaracha” comes on while I’m driving my children to school? That song was just meant for exuberant singing! How was I to know that at that moment when I would be so caught up in joyful singing, my son’s friends would all be standing outside watching as we pulled up to the school?
These are the moments when I see horrified looks cross my son’s faces and I hear them mutter under their breath, “Please Mom, people are looking at you!” It’s funny, but it seems like only yesterday when they were toddlers and I would mutter those same words to them when they would act up or throw temper tantrums in public.
I understand how they feel, so why is it so hard for me to control myself? As I approach my 44th year, why do I sometimes feel like the child and my children seem like the parents? Is life really meant to be this way?
Forgive me, Lord, for my childish behavior and please help my children to forgive me as well.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
The day before Thanksgiving is a big grocery shopping day to gather up all of the special last minute ingredients for a family feast. Now you know that grocery shopping is not my favorite chore because I often feel persecuted by rude comments from fellow shoppers for my family size and the amount of groceries I buy nearly every week. But yesterday was a huge exception to the norm.
Yesterday the store was filled with smiling faces and friendly voices wishing one another a Happy Thanksgiving. I passed the security guard who commented with a wink "Here's Wonder Woman once again!" Next the manager asked me where all of my "helpers" were. I was grateful to tell him that although I appreciate their help in the store, sometimes it's nice to shop alone.
As grateful as I was to receive these kind comments, as Christians we know that the greatest joys come in giving more than receiving. So it was with great joy that after I unloaded my cart with the weekly grocery staples, I was able to add one more item behind my purchases, a gift of a jar of home-made grape jelly and a thank you card to surprise Carol, my favorite cashier as she finished ringing up my purchases. Week after week Carol greets me with smiles and friendly chat to help me forget about the rude comments I usually gather from the other shoppers. I was so happy to be able to give her this small token of my appreciation.
After sharing a hug of thanksgiving gratitude, we commenced with some small talk. Carol wanted to know if I would spend the day after Thanksgiving shopping for Christmas presents. I assured her that the stores are the last place I'd spend my time, but instead, I will spend that day mixing up Christmas cookie dough and filling the freezer with the cookie dough until I am ready to bake the cookies that our family will share and enjoy at Christmas time. I confessed that I have to stand guard at the freezer to make sure that my kids don't raid it and eat the raw, frozen dough before I get a chance to bake the cookies!
The woman standing behind me said with tears in her eyes, "If that is all you have to worry about, consider yourself lucky! I am going to visit my daughter today...in the cemetery." She was buying nothing but flowers. As Carol and I both reached to hug her and comfort her, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, but this time, instead of the tears of self-pity and resentment from which I usually suffer in the grocery story, they were tears of gratitude for my healthy and happy family.
So this year as I sit down to a Thanksgiving feast with my family, I will bow my head and thank God for the rich blessing of my wonderful husband and our five beautiful children and four fabulous God-children. I will thank God for my brothers, sisters, in-laws, nieces and nephews, including the greats! I am thankful that we are all healthy and happy and that this Thanksgiving, we will be visiting each other in our varied homes and not in the cemetery. I am especially thankful for my mother-in-law who is now cancer free and my father-in-law who will be relieved from some of the burden of caring for her in her sickness. I am grateful for my friends both near and far. I am grateful for this blogging community and your wonderful, loving words of wisdom and kindness. I am so grateful and I am so blessed. Thank you God!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Mary complains that she doesn’t have any friends and nobody will play with her at recess. Some of the third grade girls tease in a sneering tone: “Why do you go to Mass, Mary?” Mary tries to sneer back: “Because I’m Cath-o-lic!” Walking away, all alone, she shakes her head and wonders why her classmates at a Catholic School would even ask her that question.
Thirteen-year-old Joe stretches out on his parents bed as mom sorts through mail at the end of the day. “I hate to tell you this Mom, but it happened again today. Please don’t feel bad, but almost every day, someone teases me because I go to daily Mass. If I don’t behave perfectly, if I say something mean, or get in trouble with the teacher, it always comes out… “Nice Christian witness, Joe! Is that what you learn at daily Mass? What would your holy Mom say? And by the way, did she used to be a nun?” Joe grimaces at the snide remarks and holds his temper in check until I come home and he tries to release it without hurting his sensitive mother.
Wondering if Jack was getting the same treatment, I questioned my quiet son. Unsure of the details, all he remembers is a question from his teacher at the beginning of the year… “Do you really go to Mass every day Jack? Who else is there, any other students?” Jack replied in the negative, “The only other people there all have grey hair.”
We love You and try to serve You in all we say and do. Our time with You each day at Mass is a treasure beyond cost, even the cost of painful remarks. Let the power of our daily reception of Your precious Body and Blood soothe the hurts of these humble believers who choose to begin our days in Your Holy Presence. Amen.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
“Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to eat with him. So he went to the Pharisee’s home and took his place at the table. There was a woman who was a notorious sinner in that city. When she learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s home, she took an alabaster jar of perfume and knelt at his feet behind him. She was crying and began to wash his feet with her tears and dry them with her hair. Then she kissed his feet over and over again, anointing them with costly perfume.” Luke 7:36-39
The perfume that this woman poured on Jesus’ feet cost her a year’s wages! This was extravagant love indeed! I dream of being this woman, of pouring out all of my love for Jesus and having him respond gratefully. This is by far my favorite gospel story. Fr. Don Hying, the rector at St. Francis Seminary, writes about this extravagant love and says, “When we break open the alabaster jar of our lives, the world is filled with the fragrance of Christ.”(New Heart New Spirit, April 2008) I can easily see that alabaster jar being broken open in the love of Mother Teresa, and all of those wonderful missionaries who follow after her. I can see the alabaster jar being broken open when a mother sits up all night, exhausted, and patiently caring for her sick child. I can see the alabaster jar being broken open when two friends sit together and quietly share stories of the love of God working in their lives. I can see the alabaster jar being broken open at every Mass when the priest holds the precious body of our Lord in his hands and everyone looks upon it with love.
Recently, I witnessed two very real instances of alabaster jars in my own life and I would like to share those stories. Not too long ago, I was having a very bad day; I was feeling unloved and unlovable, really drowning in self-pity and sorrow. I spent an afternoon at home crying and pouring out my misery to God. Then, my husband walked in the door at the end of his workday. He held me in his arms for the longest time and poured love from his heart to mine. Later, when I opened the bedroom door, I found two dozen red and pink roses on our bed. They were the most beautiful roses that I have ever seen in my life! Now, Paul is not the type of husband who routinely buys me flowers. In fact, in the eighteen years since we were married, I can only recall two other instances when he bought me flowers. But this day, those arms around me when I needed them the most and those beautiful, fragrant roses were an alabaster jar of extravagant love that nothing could ever match!
Another instance of an alabaster jar brings a smile to my face every time I recall it. While babysitting for my great-nephews and great-niece, Alex, Andrew and Caitlin, we spent a sunny morning outside, delighting in the beautiful warm spring weather. Caitlin, having just turned one year old, enjoyed exploring her world from her new-found skill of walking. She wobbled from tree, to flower, to slide, to toy car, to sandbox with a smile of pure joy on her face. I’m sure our time outside completely wore her out! I was trying to delay her naptime to coincide with Andrew’s, so I know she was very tired. My nephew, David, came home for lunch, and the minute that Caitlin saw him, she threw her little, tired body down at his feet and wrapped her arms around his ankles as if to say, this is what I have been waiting for! Here is my beloved father who brings me happiness with his very presence! Watching the love of that moment, I was no longer looking at Caitlin and David, but before my eyes, I was witnessing Mary and Jesus. As David bent down to pick up Caitlin and hold her in his arms, her head naturally rested near his heart as if to say, this is all I ever need, and thank you for loving me.
Everywhere I look, I will be seeing alabaster jars breaking open for the rest of my life. The world smells delicious with the rich perfume of love hanging heavy in the air. I could never grow my hair long enough to dry all of the ointment mingling with the tears. And it doesn’t matter how many people may react with scorn and disdain and criticize the extravagance. Those alabaster jars are going to keep on breaking, the fragrance is going to continue to spread, because God’s love cannot and will not be held back. Once the fragrance of Christ is in the air, our senses are awakened and we cannot help but breathe it in and share it with others.