Angel Gowns

Paul and I will be celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary this April.  I want to do something really special and Paul and I have been having some wonderful conversations, dreaming of plans together.  We'll certainly celebrate Mass and have our marriage blessed and we'll probably enjoy a special dinner with our family.  Maybe we'll take a little overnight trip away, just the two of us, which we haven't done since the babies starting coming along so many years ago.

But beyond all of those special celebrations, I want to do something that would have a lasting impact of good for others.  We've been so blessed in ways that others can only dream about and those blessings should not remain within our household but should spread to the world around us.  We thought about planting a silver birch tree to replenish the earth on our silver anniversary since the date lands so close to Earth Day, and maybe we'll still do that, but I want to do something even more meaningful.

Then, I came across the idea of donating my wedding dress and I just knew that this is what I have to do.  I certainly can't fit into it anymore, and even if I could, where would I wear it?  My daughter won't want to wear an old dress that will be out-of-fashion by the time she gets married.  For twenty-five years it has been sitting in a box inside a trunk where nobody can find any meaning or joy from it.  My dress, a garment rich in beautiful memories, symbolizing the happiest day of my life, is destined for a new life with a greater purpose.

I found a website, Donate My Wedding Dress,  which has many ideas on where to donate wedding dresses for women who are in poverty or women who are suffering other indignities in life and while I was still pondering all of those worthy causes, I learned about Angel Gowns. Throughout the United States, Canada, England, Australia, and perhaps many other places around the world, talented seamstresses give of their time to repurpose used wedding gowns into burial gowns for babies who are stillborn and they call them Angel Gowns.  Each donated wedding dress can be made into multiple burial garments which are all donated to Neonatal Intensive Care Units and funeral homes.  I think that each stitch of the needle and thread is a prayer of love and sympathy for the grieving families who must cope with such unimaginable sorrow.  The life of a child, however short, has meaning and purpose and the grief of parents who lose a child to miscarriage and early death is real and piercing.  I decided that I wanted my wedding gown to be used for burial gowns that will offer dignity and meaning to parents who must say good-bye to their children far too soon.

It took a few visits to several Angel Gown websites before I found someone who is currently accepting wedding gown donations.  I found her through Angel Gowns by Michelle, a beautiful website well worth a visit.  Linda, the woman to whom I sent my dress, has just started a website, Angel Gowns by Linda, and a facebook page, and is currently trying to raise funds to obtain tax-exempt status.  Please consider sending a donation if your heart is so moved.

As I wrapped my dress and hat in tissue and placed them in the box for shipping, I added a prayer for the future recipients and another one for the generous seamstress with the gifted hands.

Heavenly Father, you have blessed me in abundance with every good and lovely thing, and in particular, twenty-five years ago, you blessed me with a husband who has been my treasured companion each and every day.  In gratitude to you for your goodness, I give this dress, worn and kept with so much joy in my heart, as a token of my love and appreciation for the gift of all human life.  

Please bless the seamstress as she deftly takes the seams apart and creates a new garment of love for the little ones whose lives ended far too soon.  Please bless the parents and family members whose grief and heartbreak will rip and tear at the seams of their hearts for years and years to come.  May the gown that they place upon their babe bring them some peace amidts the tears.  And please bless the babies who have perhaps endured suffering and pain in their little bodies and are eager to join you in heavenly bliss for all eternity.

My Jesus, I trust in You and Your eternally wise and holy plan.  You make all things new and beautiful.  Thank You for the grace of Your love.  Amen.

From the Womb to the Tomb

At Old St. Mary Church in downtown Milwaukee, the creche is situated just below the 14th Station of the Cross where Jesus is lovingly placed in the sepulchre by his friends.  Here the birth of our Lord is placed so closely to His death.  How fitting that is for all of us live with the shadow of our death hanging ever near, never knowing when we may breathe our last, and preparing every step of the way for a holy death.  And the best way in which we can prepare for death is to take frequent advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. How perfect it is that the confessional is right between the two scenes of life and death, for the forgiveness of our sins was the reason that our Lord was born and it was for this that He died.

My Savior Jesus,

From the womb to the tomb your sole purpose was to free us from the burden of our sins.  Thank you for the beauty of your birth and for the redemption that your suffering and death brought to our souls.  May we remember to frequently take advantage of Sacramental Confession and Absolution and be blessed to rejoice with You forever in heaven for this magnificent gift!

Amen,

Look For the Helpers

source:  Razoo Blog

On Wednesday,  January 22nd this world lost a good and wonderful man, Edward Slattery, to head and neck cancer, after a hard-fought battle lasting about three years.  I had written about Ed last year when there was a fund-raiser held at St. Florian Parish in West Milwaukee to help raise money to pay for the medical bills from his long-lasting cancer treatment.  Ed's story was also featured in the Milwaukee Catholic Herald, and this year, just a short time before he died, the Milwaukee Catholic Herald included Ed's story in their list of the most inspiring stories of the year.

Over the course of the last year, from the time we first learned about Ed's cancer, our family held him deep in our daily prayers. My daughter, Mary, prayed especially intensely for a miraculous healing, and she believed that God would surely help Ed to become a cancer survivor.  We had gone to visit Ed several times, and for my 12-year-old daughter, it was extremely difficult for her to see how rapidly the cancer spread and deeply he suffered.

After we received the unbelievably tragic news that Ed had died, I found my daughter hugging the family cat and overheard her talking to him, saying, "Roo, do you get God?  I think He's mean."  For Mary, the thought that God would not will for Ed's complete healing was unfathomable. I struggled to find the right way to help her to accept that God does not always answer our prayers in the way we would want or expect Him to.  I wanted her to understand that even though sad and tragic things happen in life, God is only good and only Love, and He suffers right along with us when we weep and mourn.

I thought of Mr. Rogers and his kind and gentle way of explaining everything in life.  I remembered his often quoted statement about "looking for helpers" during tragedies and I was able to comfort Mary with the fact that in the suffering that Ed endured, she was a helper. Her prayers, her visits, and her loving concern, all helped Ed to cope with his cancer, to know that he was loved, and to move toward his inevitable death with peace. God used Mary to help Ed, and Mary willingly complied with God's use of her in giving her compassion and love so generously.

It was easy to see that Ed had many such helpers along his journey with cancer.  In his life filled with selfless giving, so many others came to know and love Ed, and wanted to give back to him. He never seemed to have a shortage of helpers, most notably in his beautiful wife, Lisa.  If I were to choose an example of a perfect marriage, I would look to Lisa and Ed.  Lisa never left Ed's side for one minute during his illness. She loved him and cared for him and believed in him.  She did everything she possibly could to give him comfort and support and to promote his healing.  She relied heavily upon prayer, and despite the fact that physical healing didn't come, the prayer that she and Ed shared surely fostered a spiritual healing that carried Ed into the arms of God upon his departure from this earthly home.

When we attended Ed's funeral, we found a packed funeral home for the wake, and an even more packed church for the Mass.  There was not a dry eye to be found as Ed had touched so many lives in this corner of the world.  Some of his siblings, and all four of his young sons, all spoke about what a wonderful man Ed was, and, before the Mass ended, over 100 young men that Ed had coached in basketball, including two of my sons, stood at the foot of the altar in tribute to the man who had taught them not just how to play a game, but also how to make their way through life with perseverance, passion and hard work.

In his life, Ed had been a helper to many, and in his sickness, so many people were able to return that help to him.  Now, in his death, those helpers continue to pray for his soul and for his surviving family.

My daughter and I are learning to look for the helpers in every situation and to be willing to be a helper to all. And in our helping, we are bringing the love of God to the world around us. What an honor it is to help God, to bring his healing to those who suffer through our words and actions, to pray for those we care about and even for those we don't know so well.

Look for the helpers.  They are each of us and they are everywhere.

Eternal rest grant unto Ed Slattery, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May Ed's soul, and all of the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

The Slattery Family

The Only Child

The U-Haul truck pulled up to the house across the street and little by little furniture was carried out and loaded into the truck. Our neighbors had not lived in their house very long, only two or three years...continue reading at Catholicmom.com

Unknown

I'd see him everyday
and although we never spoke,
in my self-centered obsession
I felt that he didn't like me
because he wouldn't smile or even
make eye contact with me

but others spoke highly of him
and the good he did in this world
taking a poor sister into his care
helping her return to her home
half a world away

and day after day
we sat only a few pews apart
our voices joined in prayer
to the only One who will ever
really know us

now he's gone, his pew is empty
his soul is on its final journey
to the only One who really
does knows him

what's left behind is a sparse
obituary
and a prayer in my heart
for the man who was, to me,
unknown

her funeral was small,
only a few relatives in attendance
but their love for her was
genuine, and the tears
they cried were real

although she had spent
her entire adulthood
in a house near the church
poor health required a move
to the nursing home
in recent years

I was shocked
when the officiating priest
had to ask for her name
during his funeral homily
and I thought it sad
to be unknown

and I longed to make a difference
leave a mark upon the earth
to reveal my face and what
is deep within my heart
before it's too late
and I pass this way unknown

I busy myself
and I make connections
and I strive and I push
because all I want is to
be known

yet in the end, will it really matter?
when He calls me to His heart
He will know who I am
down to the smallest detail;
and after I'm gone
there will still be an empty pew
left behind
and some tears shed by those
who love me

but the world at large
will never know me
will not remember me
and it does not matter at all
that I am unknown

spending precious time with Him
in the silence of my heart,
with head bowed down
and knees to earth,
we share all we need to know
of the other

so if these fleeting moments
here on earth
leave me by myself, alone
familiarity will still be mine
in His heart, I will always
be known

He Leads, They Follow

"Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, Carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care." ~Isaiah 40:11









Today's readings are terribly comforting. I can just picture a pastoral hillside in the early spring morning, dew clinging to the green, mists clearing away in the rays of bright sun, and a beautiful, caring man with tender yet work-worn hands, leading his beloved sheep in the way in which they should go. And with unfailing trust, they follow, knowing that he will never lead them astray.

But, what is even more comforting to me than the imaginary visuals I picture, is the fact that I have seen this image several times in real life, very recently.

He leads~ I received an email from one of my very dearest friends. She and another friend of hers were wondering if I knew of some local hours of adoration. After some recent discussions, they had decided that spending silent time with the Lord was just the boost that their spiritual lives needed. Adoration is something quite new to them and they wanted to give it a try, so I gladly shared some local adoration schedules with her. A few days later, my friend called me to report that her friend couldn't wait and had already gone to be alone with Jesus for an hour, and was hooked! She couldn't wait to go back, and the two of them had a date chosen in the coming days when they would attend together. A blessing! ~They follow

He leads~ Last Sunday as my family and I walked into church for the 7:30 AM Mass, I saw the sweet young teen who has asked me to be her confirmation sponsor. She was all alone, sitting near the back of church. My heart skipped a beat of joy as I embraced her and told her how happy I was to see her there. After Mass, she was working at a table, signing people up for an upcoming blood drive. It's so thrilling to see young people in action, living their faith, without any prompting from the adults in their lives, simply doing what they know in their hearts to be right and true. ~They follow

He leads~ A young woman who had lost her oldest daughter in a tragic car accident a few years ago contacted me recently. Our lives had connected through the power of the Holy Spirit with a simple poem. Since the time of her daughter's funeral, we had become email and facebook buddies, and finally, last summer, I had the honor of meeting her in person and offering her what little comfort could be given to one who continues to suffer so. Hearing her voice on the phone delivering the message she couldn't wait to share with me, was like listening to the voice of an angel. She wanted me to know that she was working on getting her life back together. She was in the process of making plans to have her two little children baptized, and, along with them, she herself wants to be baptized. She will be joining my parish and following through with the plans that God has for her life. ~They follow

Thank You, Jesus, my gentle shepherd, for allowing me to play a small part in the spiritual lives of these women who are longing for you. Perhaps I am the bell quietly ringing to let them know of your presence, maybe I am the fence that holds them together so they can't stray too far from your loving gaze or, perhaps, I am simply the silent witness, praying that You will always hold them close. No matter how You choose to use me, Lord, I thank You. But, most of all, I thank You for desiring and loving all of your little ones, and especially for loving me, the littlest one of all. Amen.

"...it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost.” Matthew 18:14

From Across the Street

I watch as the children gather
near to each other in the front yard
wrapping arms around necks
in efforts to offer comfort;
this public display of sorrow
is so unusual for the deeply
private family and I watch
and my heart breaks, too
from across the street

feeling much discomfort
wanting to offer solace as well
but knowing it is not my place,
not yet anyway,
I silently pray for her soul
from across the street

neighbors who are really strangers
to one another
watching from across the street
that might as well have been
an ocean divide;
their blinds closed tight,
keeping out the neighbors,
holding others at a distance
and soon, we forget to care
forget that they are even there

a few friendly waves now and then
maybe we scowl at the loose dog
that got in our yard
or they chastise our children
for tossing the ball
towards their newly purchased car;
years pass and we never cross over
into true friendship
but remain content
to watch each others lives
from across the street

but in the end
what does it matter?
a life is over too soon,
only fifty-four the papers say
and the family grieves
while the wind and rain
blow the memories of her spirit
around our hearts;
and the arms of loved ones
that comfort the family in their loss
represent those of the angels
that are now comforting
a woman after her years
of cancerous pain

and the widower returns
to his garage every morning
where he and his dog
listen to the radio
while the fire burns in the stove
and now his heart breaks in silence
and our prayers rise to heaven
as we consider sending a card
and a casserole
yet it seems too little, too late
and we continue to fear
reaching out
from across the street

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. For my neighbor, Becky, and my sister's mother-in-law, Dolores, may their souls and all the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen.