You Come

There's no doubt that my life is steeped in Catholicism, that my faith is embedded in my heart and I could never imagine practicing any other form of Christianity. Each day of my life I become more deeply involved with others in my community of Catholics and am drawn into a life of faith which shapes and defines me.

This weekend I had the great joy of participating in an evening with 13 other women who are all mothers of seminarians or high school and college students who are discerning a call to the priesthood through St. Francis de Sales Seminary. It was a beautiful occasion which was hosted by my friend Christi who prepared a lovely dinner for us. We had the opportunity to share our common love for the Church and for our sons and to brainstorm ideas about how we can keep the momentum going, to keep the fires burning brightly in the hearts of our children and to pray for an increase in vocations to the priesthood and religious life for our Archdiocese.

I was equally blessed to spend a quiet afternoon with an elderly gentleman who had been instrumental in forming Roses for Our Lady thirty one years ago. Tony was grateful for the opportunity to share his memories of the early days of the organization and I was greatly impressed to learn about all of the work and great love that went in to building this lay apostolate that has withstood the test of time and has now become a major part of my life.

From the genteel ladies dinner and the quiet, reflective afternoon I then entered into an experience that was quite large scale and inspiring, but clearly out of my normal comfort zone of Catholicism. My children had been quite eager to attend a free event at Milwaukee's lakefront called Rock the Lakes. The program was organized by the Billy Graham Evangelical Association. I've watched Billy Graham's television crusades in the past, but to actually have the opportunity to experience it first hand under the guidance of his son, Franklin, was really something special.

We estimated that there were about 5000 people in attendance at the event along Milwaukee's beautiful shores of Lake Michigan and the crowd was definitely young. I couldn't help but compare this evangelical Christian event to Catholicism's World Youth Day, only on a much smaller and local scale. God is clearly calling the youth of our society and it's interesting to see it done in a massive way complete with bright lights, loud music and large crowds.

What enticed my children to want to attend the event were the Christian bands that were highlighted throughout the day. We listened to the bands The Afters, Lecrae, The Almost and the headliner, Skillet. I had never heard of any of these bands before but in my children's lives they are quite popular and by the end of the night, after listening to Skillet rock out complete with black outfits, dark make-up, loud screaming music and a light show that included fireworks on stage, I could see why my children were drawn to this event. It was a fun time and the music was great! But the purpose of the event held a deeper meaning than just having a good time, and the lyrics of the songs and the words of the artists were all meant to inspire a life of holiness and a love of God through the suffering of Jesus Christ on the cross.

In between each of the musical acts, Franklin Graham came on stage and his message was always the same...

"If God is speaking to your heart right now, I want you to come. You come. You come right up here and talk with one of our counselors. You may say, God knows I'm a sinner, I don't have to tell Him that; but God wants to hear you say it. You won't really be speaking with the counselor, you'll be speaking with God. It's called confession. You tell God that you are a sinner and that you are sorry for your sins. It's called repentance. God will forgive you. You come."

And the people came. Grace was overflowing as hundreds lined up to shake the cloud of sin that weighed heavy on their souls and to receive the knowledge that God loves them and forgives them. It really was a beautiful and moving thing to see. (The picture here is from this year's World Youth Day in Madrid.)

As we began the long walk back to our car at the end of the night, my children were discussing how much they enjoyed the event. Mary said, "I don't understand why they were confessing their sins to a counselor. It should have been a priest." My heart burned for joy at the wisdom of her words. She quickly caught on to the similarity of what was happening at Rock the Lakes to what happens in the quiet of the confessional within Catholic churches throughout the world each and every day. Yet there is a huge difference between the confession of sins that occurs at a public evangelical Christian event and the Sacrament of Reconciliation that is part of the life of Catholics. Without making satisfaction for our sins through penance our forgiveness can't be complete and so I feel more blessed than ever to be Catholic, to have the opportunity to confess my sins frequently and to hear the priest who acts "in persona Christi" utter those magnificent words of absolution:

"God the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of our sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

We are all being called, whether Catholic or not, to a deeper union with God, to turn our backs on sin, to repent and live a life of freedom in the shadow of the now empty cross which stands in the light of the Resurrected Christ. We are called to lives of prayer and service within the Church and within our communities, and it was only two simple yet powerful words spoken by Franklin Graham that brought hundreds of people to want to commit their lives to that call. You come.

You come.

It Is Good That We Are Here

"To take time in one's life for a holy journey helps us remember the truth about who we are and where we are going. It helps us think about what is above, to rediscover what it means to be free, rational and spiritual creatures." ~Dr. Anthony Lilles, Beginning to Pray

















Last Saturday, on the Feast of the Transfiguration, I made a pilgrimage with my sisters, nieces, and daughter to Our Lady of Good Help Shrine in Champion, WI. I often bemoan the fact that I can count my travels on one hand and have never been on an airplane. I also frequently lament that I have never been and probably never will be able to visit Lourdes, Fatima or Guadalupe. So it's an incredible thrill for me to have had the privilege and honor to visit an approved Marian Apparition that is within driving distance of my home. God has greatly blessed the state of Wisconsin with the visit of the Blessed Mother to Sister Adele Brise in 1859 and has greatly blessed me with the opportunity to visit this holy ground.

I am on a Divine Mercy Prayer Chain list and the night before the girls and I left for our pilgrimage I was surprised to open my Divine Mercy Prayer Chain email and find this prayer request:

"For my sisters and I as we pilgrimage to Our Lady of Good Help Shrine."

Was this a coincidence? How many other groups of sisters were planning a pilgrimage on the same date, I wondered? It turns out that my sister Cindy is part of the same prayer chain and she was the one who sent in the request. Whew! This world would be far too crazy with two groups of sisters visiting the same shrine on the same day, wouldn't it? I'm sure my sisters and I were enough for the shrine to handle on one day!

While I had been reading up about the shrine in preparation for our trip, I noticed that there are quite a few groups of pilgrims who have walked on foot from as far as 150 miles away to visit the shrine. How I would have loved to make a pilgrimage like that! But my sisters decided that it would be enough suffering and sacrifice if I would chauffeur the 100 mile drive in my beat up non air conditioned 2001 Pontiac Montana. My seriously lousy driving skills offered us many opportunities for prayer along the way.

We arrived at the shrine just in time for the 8 AM Mass on the First Saturday of the Month which also happened to be the Feast of the Transfiguration. The Shrine of Our Lady of Good Help is nestled deep in farm country and as we walked into the chapel we were greeted by the sound of a crowing rooster from a nearby farm. My thoughts turned to St. Peter and his denial of Christ. But it was the words he spoke at the Transfiguration of Christ that resounded in my heart, "Lord, it is good that we are here," and that became my prayer of gratitude for having safely arrived at our destination.

After hearing so much about busloads of pilgrims coming from all around the world, I was a bit disappointed that although we were exactly on time for Mass, the chapel was not at all packed, in fact, our group of ten women and girls all found seats near the front. The chapel has recently been placed in the care of the Fathers of Mercy, and the young chaplain, Fr. Jewel Aytona, CPM, who was just ordained in June, 2011, said the Mass. I have never in my life seen more reverence at any Mass that I have ever attended. During his homily, he focused on the gospel quote: "This is my beloved Son, listen to Him." In particular he focused on listening to God during the consecration. He said, "When the priest prays the words of consecration, he speaks in the first person...This is MY body, This is MY blood." And later, during the consecration, Fr. Jewel held the body and blood of the Lord in the air for all to adore Him for the longest time I have ever seen Jesus' body and blood elevated anywhere by any priest. It was beautiful!

After Mass we prayed the rosary while we stood in line for confession for over an hour. The length of our time in line was a sign that the crowd of pilgrims was becoming larger as the day progressed. The wait was well worth it and I was sure to offer a prayer of gratitude for the priest who listened to confessions in the stifling hot confessional, for there was a man who truly suffered for his faith! The crypt where Mary appeared to Adele Brise was even warmer than the confessional, but the warmest part of all was the feeling of great love that hung heavy in the air. It was easy to feel the love of the Blessed Mother for all of the pilgrims visiting her on the First Saturday of the month, the day dedicated to her Immaculate Heart.

On the side of the altar, there was a little shrine with the statue of Our Lady of Good Help and it was noted that this was a replacement statue as the original one that was given to Adele Brise had been destroyed by fire. A monstrance contained pieces of the two trees, a maple and a hemlock, between which the Blessed Mother appeared to Adele, and a reliquary held a relic of the veil which belonged to the Blessed Mother. This was my favorite part of the shrine; I could have prayed there for hours!

Although our visit ended far too quickly, the blessings continue as my sisters and I will begin our 33 day preparation to renew our Consecration to the Blessed Virgin Mary on the Feast of the Nativity of her birth. I eagerly anticipate another trip to this lovely little piece of heaven on earth that is so close to my home that I could easily become a frequent visitor. I know that there are many more riches of faith to discover as I delve ever more deeply into the wonders of a Marian apparition in my own home state.

Prayer to Our Lady of Good Help

Our Lady of Good Help, Mother of God, Mother of Jesus, and Mother of the Church, it is with confidence in Thy tender mercy that we place our petitions before Thee as intercessor to Thy Divine Son. Resting our hope confidently in Thy Immaculate Heart to obtain for us that which will give glory to Thine only-begotten Son, we thank Thee.

O Queen of Heaven, as Thou didst ask Sister Adele to teach the children the holy catechism, so also teach us how to make the Heart of Jesus reign and triumph in us and around us, as it has reigned and triumphed in Thee. Reign over us, dearest Queen, that we may be Thine in prosperity and in adversity, in joy and in sorrow, in health and in sickness, in life and in death. Amen.

Absolution

I find myself steeped in sin
and long to be made clean
so I hike over to the local
church and get in line

there are six before me, and soon
there are eight behind me;
I am a sinner in the midst of sin

the line moves slowly for
sin isn't washed away
with a swipe of the cloth
it takes a bit of scrubbing, and
scrubbing takes time

a rosary and a divine mercy chaplet
and it's my turn in the box
I offer my sins wrapped in
sorrow and contrition
and receive advice and penance in return

and then it comes-
the prayer that has the power
to thrill me every time
I hear it-

"God the Father of mercies,
through the death and resurrection of his Son
has reconciled the world to himself
and sent the Holy Spirit among us
for the forgiveness of sins;
through the ministry of the Church
may God give you pardon and peace,
and I absolve you from your sins
in the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit."

and with those beautiful words
that sound remarkably like
God saying "I love you"
I am renewed, refreshed and redeemed
and can walk upright on
the return journey to the rest of my life

Good and Perfect Gifts

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." James 1:17
















I was overcome by sin, shaking inside and out
from the mess I had made of my life
and He offered me the Sacrament of Reconciliation
with the promise of a celebration in the end.
"Go have an ice cream cone for your penance"
the priest said.

I was feeling insignificant and invisible
looking for a little affirmation to draw me
out of my self-pity.
Father stopped and thanked me
for being a role-model by
faithfully bringing my children
to Mass each day. Those words lifted my spirits
and opened me to pay attention to others
who may be in need of a bit of praise.

I was looking for something new,
feeling worn down by the familiarity
of my faith.
He drew me to a Holy Hour
where enchantingly beautiful girls
covered their long hair with lace mantillas
and dressed in modestly long skirts;
where incense filled my nostrils and my
ears were delighted by prayers in Latin.

I wanted peace and quiet
after too many hours of frantic
weekend activity, racing from one place
to the next at a dizzying pace.
I found it in a Taize prayer service
where the hush of silence in glowing candlelight
punctuated by harmonious chants
stilled my weary soul.

I needed a smile to start my day and God blessed
me with a husband who remembers the fun of childhood,
and loves to amuse me in the most joyful of ways.
I sat behind the steering wheel of the van, ready to begin my day
and smiled at the prayer card of Archbishop Listecki that was
looking back at me-a visual sign from my husband
that he had been in the van before me and wanted to
cue me into his presence.
What he didn't know was that was the day of the week
which I had signed up to pray the rosary for the good Archbishop,
and my husband's little prank
was a pleasant reminder to do just that.

God always knows what I need-whether it be
forgiveness
a little praise
a unique way to pray
peace and quiet
a smile
or a reminder to pray for others-
He always makes sure that I receive it!

Praise be our God who cares for us so well!

Time Machine

"Going to confession is cool. It's like having your own time machine and you can travel back in time to erase the things you shouldn't have done." Joe Bender, 13 years old





















I enter the box,
heart racing just a bit
nervously wondering if I will forget
the sins I want to release.

Making the sign of the cross
with the priest instantly calms me.
I know that sin is something of which we are all guilty,
the priest takes his turn at confession, too.

I take a deep breath and begin,
soon my words are tripping over themselves
racing to get out of my system
and I end with the words-"I am truly sorry."

Now it's my turn to listen carefully
as the priest gently consoles me with words of advice
to help me live a holy life
and offers a penance to atone for my faults.

I recite an Act of Contrition
and the words I long for finally come-
"May the Lord grant you pardon and peace
and I absolve you from your sins, in the Name of the
Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

I step out of the time machine
to a new life of peace
cleansed of my guilt and ready to perform my penance.
Stepping back in time, I resolve to sin no more.

Sabbath Sunday/Witness to Grace

Fr. Christian Mathis at Blessed is the Kingdom, has a weekly day of rest MEME called Sabbath Sunday. He invites us to republish a previous post and take the day off. I wrote this particular story last winter and thought that it is very fitting to the season, so I am sharing it once again.

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.

Pondering Pages/Pardon and Peace

Better late than never, right? I loved the book "Pardon and Peace" by Alfred Wilson, but this avid reader has become quite sluggish in making her way through the books lately. I wanted to completely finish this book before I wrote anything about it, and I'm glad I did because the end was the very best part! So here, two days late for Lara's Holy Mothering MEME, is my pondering pages contribution.

On September 23rd, the feast day of St. Padre Pio, my son John and I attended a beautiful program on the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The relics of St. Padre Pio were at the church for veneration and a priest gave a three hour talk about the Sacrament. His talk was outstanding! If anyone had ever asked me if I would be willing to stand in line for two hours to confess my sins, I would have said "No, I'll go somewhere else with a shorter line." But let me tell you, after hearing this talk, I was just burning to go to confession and release that burden of sin that was weighing me down. So, I got in line and I did wait two hours for the Sacrament with no regrets for the time spent, for it was very well spent.

During his talk, the priest kept referring to a wonderful book he had read. The book was "Pardon and Peace" by Alfred Wilson. It was written in 1947. The book is really a "how to" manual about the Sacrament. It covers everything you could ever want to know about the "hows" and the "whys" of confessing sins. It offers encouragement and compassion while at the same time, talks about the respect and responsibilities that we should remember when celebrating the Sacrament.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, the ending of the book really touched my heart and sent my spirit soaring, so I share part of that with you...

In speaking about the miracle of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead..."The raising of a soul from the death of sin to the divine life of grace is a still greater marvel and miracle. No bodily corruption can compare with the spiritual corruption of a soul in the state of mortal sin; a spiritual corpse is far more repulsive than a physical corpse. The spiritual degradation of a soul in mortal sin is indescribable, but even more indescribable is the transcendent beauty of a soul in grace. To transform a sinner from the loathsome corruption of spiritual death to the dazzling beauty of participated divine life is a work of power and mercy which even the angels cannot fully understand."

"Approach this Sacrament in a spirit of tranquility and boundless trust. You are going...to your Divine Friend of Friends, Who only asks you to lay bare your wounds that He may heal them. A drop of Precious Blood is, as it were, about to fall on your soul and "though your sins be as scarlet, they shall become white as snow." He is overjoyed that you are coming to Him-you must believe that."

And for me, I do believe that, and I can't wait to receive the Sacrament again, before my Consecration this Saturday, and with that forgiveness of my sins and the touch of Jesus' loving hand upon me, I know that I will be ready to stand in God's presence and profess my eternal love and devotion to Jesus and Mary.

Torn to Shreds

In honor of the Feast Day of St. John Vianney, a story about forgiveness in remembrance of the Saint who spent countless hours in the confessional...

When my son Justin was preparing to make the Sacrament of First Reconciliation, he was quite nervous as most children are the first time they confess their sins, and as some people are every time they confess their sins. Part of Justin’s nerves were due to the fact that he thought he might freeze up in the confessional and forget the sins he needed to confess. His remedy for this fear was to write all of his sins down on a piece of paper, tuck it in his pocket, and pull it out if the need arose.

Sure enough, as nine-year-old Justin sat face to face with the priest, he drew a perfect blank about what he wanted to say. So, he pulled that paper from his pocket and “read” his sins to Father. After he received absolution, the priest asked to see the list of sins. As Justin handed the paper to the priest, Father immediately tore the paper to shreds. He told Justin, “This is what God has now done to your sins. God has torn your sins to shreds; they are gone forever. You should completely forget about them.” What a wonderful symbolic action on the part of this priest! Justin left the confessional just beaming!

I need to frequently remind myself of the lesson Justin learned that day, because although I know that my sins are permanently absolved in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, my good old Catholic guilt won’t let me forget them. I keep trying to pick up those scraps of paper and glue them back together again. I keep trying to tell myself that my sins are so bad I can never be redeemed. How that must hurt Jesus to know that I can’t seem to accept his forgiveness wholeheartedly, that part of me continues to hang on to my sin. I need to remind myself over and over again that God loves me, right here, right now, whether I am sinful or redeemed from the state of sin. He longs to pick up those scraps of paper that have been torn to shreds and burn them in the fire so there will be no way I can try to pick them up again.

Dear, sweet, forgiving Jesus, help me to remember that my sins, once confessed and forgiven with the blessing of absolution, are no longer mine to hold on to, they are now yours to do whatever it is you wish with them. It was a precious gift of love when you took my sins upon yourself through the suffering you endured on the cross. Help me to show my appreciation for that gift by forgiving myself as you forgive me. Amen.

Pilgrimage!

Everything Old is New Again
Latin Mass
I grew up in a post-Vatican II world and could never quite understand the passion of so many people who vehemently resented the changes instilled in the Mass by Pope John XXIII and the Vatican II Council. On the other hand, I also failed to understand the passion of so many people who insisted that the church did not change enough, did not become modern enough for their liking. I’m sure that the fact that I never attended a Latin Mass would go a long way toward explaining my lack of understanding of either position. I always thought, “What’s all the fuss about? What’s wrong with the Mass the way it is?”

This past weekend, I went on my first-ever Pilgrimage. Usually when you hear the word Pilgrimage, don’t you think of traveling to some far-off destination like Fatima, Lourdes or the Holy Land? Unfortunately, I am not a world traveler. I’ve never been on an airplane and it is highly unlikely that I ever will. So my Pilgrimage was not in an exotic location, however, it was beautiful nonetheless. Some of my sisters, nieces, my daughter Mary and I traveled across our beautiful state of Wisconsin by mini-van to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in LaCrosse. We chose the occasion of Mother’s Day weekend to make our Pilgrimage because it happened to be the tenth anniversary of my own mother’s death and we thought this would be a lovely way to honor her memory-and it was.

The Shrine is quite new, built within the last year. It is run by the Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate. Although the building is new and everything was absolutely beautiful, the atmosphere was definitely traditional. During this lovely weekend retreat, I was finally able to lift a portion of the veil that for so long hid the historic traditions of the Catholic Church from my eyes, and a part of the ancient mystery was finally revealed to me.

On Saturday, we participated in a beautiful May Crowning of the statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe. A father lifted his sweet little girl who was wearing a lace veil up so that she might reach high enough to place the floral wreath upon the head of our beautiful Lady. In fact, it was hard to miss the fact that most of the women and girls at the Shrine wore lace coverings on their heads. It was also hard to miss the fact that most of the families were quite large, with 5-8 children in most of them, and all of the family members were modestly dressed. The atmosphere was definitely reverent. Then everyone processed to the Shrine Church while praying the rosary.

The church itself was quite impressive! It was large with lots of marble. The sides of the church displayed portraits of many wonderful saints. The one which impressed me the most was a portrait of newly canonized St. Gianna Molla immortalized in a lab coat, holding a baby and surrounded by small children. I am so used to seeing Saints dressed in the habits of nuns or old-fashioned clothing, it was nice to see someone modern, and someone I could relate to. I think that St. Gianna and the glorious way that she witnessed to the pro-life cause by giving her own life for the sake of her daughter, makes her one of my favorite Saints!

When it was time for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, my seven year old daughter Mary expressed reservations for the first time since she received the Sacrament when she was in kindergarten. She receives the Sacrament regularly, at least every other month, but never behind a screen. My modern daughter has only received this Sacrament face to face. She bravely walked into the Confessional and came out beaming, happy to have had a new experience of the Sacrament that cleanses her soul.

During the Mass, we heard out first ever “Fire and Brimstone” homily. The message was strong and powerful, yet it was delivered in a very gentle manner in a quiet and humble voice. Quite impressive! The gist of the homily was that all families need to consecrate themselves to the Blessed Virgin Mary for the salvation of the world. I was moved enough by this homily to agree to praying the consecration prayer daily. Here's the link if you would like to join me in this prayer. http://www.catholic.org/prayers/prayer.php?p=438


Another first for most of our group was kneeling at the marble Altar rail and receiving the Body of Christ on our tongues. Mary later commented that it was weird and fun at the same time. My niece Jenny had a more beautiful way of expressing her experience. She said it was as if an angel came down from heaven to place the Heavenly Host directly on her tongue. I can almost hear beautiful opera voices singing "Panis Angelicus".

On Sunday morning, we returned to the Shrine to walk the outdoor Way of the Cross and pray the rosary. Then it was back to church for another new experience-Mass in Latin! While listening to the gorgeous Latin chants, I could feel the Holy Spirit moving in my heart. I loved the sound of the bells ringing during the Mass. Once again, I greatly enjoyed the reverence of kneeling to receive Holy Communion. But, I have to admit that the modern way of praying at Mass in English, where everyone can easily participate, and being able to see the priest and all of his actions as he faces the people has a definite advantage over the Latin Rite.


All in all, I am so grateful to have had this beautiful experience of Pilgrimage and Latin Mass. Although I didn’t travel to an exotic location, I did have an exotic experience of my faith. I absolutely love being Catholic, I love the Church and I love the Mass. I cannot imagine life without it! I am grateful for the Vatican II changes, but I love the history and tradition of being able to pray a Mass in Latin as well. In modern language, I would say that with or without disagreements, before or after change, the Catholic Church rocks! I thank God for this beautiful, meaningful religion. Now, if I could just find out what “The Secret Prayer” is and what is so secret about it, I would be very happy! It’s another veil for me to work at lifting aside! I look forward to learning the answer with great anticipation!

It's Always About the Laundry!

Today as I checked out one of my favorite blogs, The Deacon's Bench, I found a lovely prayer about laundry. Even on Mother's Day, I can't escape my least favorite chore, it seems to follow me constantly! After reading this post, maybe you will feel my pain and send me your sympathy!

Laundry Day…aka…Every Day!

I know what I want on my tombstone…At last, her laundry’s done.
-Kathleen Norris The Cloister Walk

Seven people in our household adds up to lots of laundry, sometimes 3-4 loads a day! Laundry gets done in our house seven days a week, holidays included. It’s no wonder that I’ve come to consider myself to be somewhat of a laundry expert. Please note it is not with pride that I give myself this title, but rather, with disdain. Laundry is one of my most dreaded chores.

A priest once told me that laundry could be a prayer. “Easy for you to say,” I scoffed, “you only have to do laundry for one, your laundry prayer only occurs once or twice a week instead of once or twice a day! I happen to be a prayer snob. I prefer to offer daily prayer in other, less mundane ways.”

But it seemed, that ever since he told me that laundry could be a prayer, I kept running into the “laundry as prayer” theme over and over again. This constant attention to praying with the laundry has caused me to ponder the possibility of this type of prayer more than I would have cared to normally. My usual habit was to do the laundry as quickly as possible, chuck it all into the dresser drawers, and then try to put it out of my mind.

I think that the only time in my life that I might have considered laundry to be a real prayer were the years when my children were babies bundled in cloth diapers. I tried to accomplish the daily chore of lugging the heavy, smelly diaper pail down two flights of stairs to the basement as quickly as possible to limit my time spent inhaling the odor. Although, I can’t forget the time when those diapers smelled sweet instead of disgusting. That was when two-year-old Justin poured all of my perfume into the diaper pail. He was ahead of his time for the scented-diaper market now so popular in the disposable diaper world! Anyway, I would quickly deposit those diapers into the hot bleach water, run the wash cycle twice for good measure, and then hang them, now sparkling white and fresh, on the backyard clothesline to dry. There was definitely something prayerful and old-fashioned about standing outside in the backyard with clothespins in hand, creating white surrender flags with the diapers. It was as if I was surrendering my life to God so he could use me in any motherly fashion he needed me to be at that time. Then, quietly folding those diaper flags of surrender into neat piles contained in the laundry basket, symbolized how contained I felt in my life at home with all those babies.

But today, as I sort endless socks, looking for the lost partners, I could use a little guidance to find the prayer in it. Maybe I could focus on how those socks cover feet so sturdy and strong as they wander God’s lovely world. But, then again, maybe sock-sorting is really meant to be a penance instead of a prayer. I can just imagine the hushed voice of the priest in the confessional..."As your penance, say three Hail Mary's while you fold the family laundry!"

My poor son, Joe, has unwittingly become my partner in laundry prayer. While all of the children take turns emptying the hamper and bringing the laundry down to the basement for me to wash (I refuse to turn the washing job over to the children unless I’m willing to let stains go untreated, colors go unsorted, and watch them overstuff the wash machine with inside out pant legs and socks rolled in balls which would come out of the wash as dirty as they went in!), it seems to be that Joe’s name rolls so easily from my tongue day after day when its time to put the folded laundry away into the dresser drawers. So, Joe is assigned the laundry chore, much to his chagrin. I tell him that he can consider his unhappiness about helping with the laundry to be something that he has in common with his mother. I can imagine him years from now, long after I’m dead, fondly recalling how he and his mom both hated to do the laundry. I wonder, does he pray for each of his siblings as he puts their clothes into their drawers, or does he too, consider it to be more of a penance?

Maybe I spend too much time worrying about whether or not laundry is a prayer. Maybe it’s time to teach my children to press their own shirts, and press forward in my heart to ever-new ways of praying to my God. Could it be time to consider the dusting?

Tree of Strength

Last fall, I was inspired the write a poem about a beautiful, lone tree on the Seminary grounds. Today, I saw that same tree bursting with the new life of spring. Here I share both of my reflections on life that were inspired by that same,wonderful tree.


Tree of Strength


The flaming tree stands alone,
on fire with autumn foliage.
It isn’t lonely to be alone.
It is proud to stand out and display its beauty in the middle of the field.
It is glorious and perfect in its solitary space.
The leaves fall and they lay at the foot of the tree.
This is their sign of worship for the mighty, strong, tree.
I am a leaf who has fallen in sin.
Now, I lay in worship at the foot
of the tree of life, the cross.
I will shrivel and decay into the earth,
and be taken back
into the tree as nourishment
to be reborn in spring.
I will be forgiven and brought to new life.

My worship,
my sorrow,
my penance
give strength and beauty to the tree.
The cycle of sin, sorrow and forgiveness
continues over and over again
making the tree stronger
and more beautiful
as it ages into eternity.

Tree of Strength-Reborn



The early morning spring mist
hovers lightly
around the mighty tree,
but it can’t conceal
the signs of new life.
Tiny, tender sprigs of
fresh green leaves
are beginning to grow
on the hard, wooden branches.

What a beautiful sign this new growth is!
All of those decayed leaves lying on the ground,
that symbolized sin only a few months ago,
have nourished the stark tree
throughout the cold winter months.

What was hidden inside the tree
was forgiveness and renewal.
I can now come forward
with my head held high
knowing that my Savior, God,
has accepted the sacrifice of my life
and brought forth something new and wonderful!

I am that new green leaf beginning to grow,
eager to become a pleasing sign
for the entire world to see.
I am reborn and ready to show
the Mercy of God to all
who pass by.